I'm Still Here
by J.W.Melmoth
Summary: Sequel to Aftermath. After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.
1. Chapter 1

Authors' notes: This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles. (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)

Sequel to **Aftermath**

**Warnings:** mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs

* * *

><p><strong>KURT<strong>

"Hey, twinkie. Heard you just lost 180 pounds of unsightly lard and hairgel!"

Kurt continued to set down several plates on the table he was serving as he glanced over his shoulder. "Santana! Hey! How was your summer vacation in _Lesbos_?"

Santana wrinkled her nose at the joke, then laughed and pumped her fist at her chest. "Oh, babygay. You've learned to _shade_ over the summer. Mama so proud. Did you take a class?"

The customers laughed a little. Kurt was pretty sure this couple remembered Santana.

"I took _some_ classes, but they were mostly micro-skill acting classes and music theory." Kurt turned back to the customers. "How is everything? Do you need anything else?"

He finished up with them and then went to take an 'intermission' with Santana. After all the fighting with Rachel, Santana had elected to spend the summer doing a few acting jobs she'd lined up on the west coast while crashing with Mercedes, and then visiting her family back in Lima. Thus, they hadn't seen one another in months, but Kurt had no doubt that L.A. had as much (if not more) lesbian content as the metaphorical implication of the Grecian island. Kurt thought it a little strange that she'd pop in on him here so soon, but maybe she'd been in town longer than he knew.

As they moved into the window light of the table by the door, Santana's eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on him so completely that Kurt almost started checking his uniform for something wrong. Her lips parted slightly, and she raised one hand up and reached for Kurt. He almost pulled away, until he realized what she was staring at.

In the light of the diner, sometimes his lingering bruises from the attack weren't as noticeable. Their regulars had stopped asking about it, anyway. In daylight, however, one was yellowing on his cheek, another on his chin. Above his eyebrow was a bit of a scar, and there was the ghost of one on his cheek. Santana's soft fingertips brushed over these, proving what Kurt had long suspected. She might joke, and pretend not to care, but Santana had senses as sharp as her wit. She _noticed_ things, and she had noticed these small changes in Kurt, and honed in on them for examination.

When her fingers brushed over the scar above his eyebrow, Kurt smiled. "I'm kind of proud of that. Do you think guys will think it's sexy?"

Santana broke out of her revery and screwed her brows together. "You're crazy. And bad ass." She shook her head, started to say something, then pressed her lips together for a moment, biting whatever it was back. "And did you really kick Blaine to the curb? Dani told me you did. _And_ that it was epic."

"Epic. Nerve-wracking." Kurt shrugged as they sat together and gave a "single ladies" flip of his left hand. "But I'm free of the ring, yes."

Santana took the seat beside him, her body language considerably softer than he would've expected. Then again, she'd been softer to him in general since he'd taken her side in the Great Fanny Debacle of 2013. Maybe this was the inevitable arc of Santana's sympathies, when she marked you as a friend. He remembered her acting as almost a caretaker for Rachel at times, before.

"Good riddance," Santana spat after Kurt had finished the story. "I can't believe we believed him." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I can't believe you took him back in the first place."

"You came to the proposal!"

"Yeah, but like, I was trying to be supporto-girl there." She spread her hands. "Rachel said she'd help with our _Facts of Life_ musical if I didn't rip the Gelmet Sausage Boy a new one or imply your marriage would have the vigor and endurance of a Britany Spears Vegas affair."

"See, that kind of well-placed eloquence would have really simplified my life." Kurt sighed. "I probably wouldn't have listened anyway. I had this image of us… It felt like us against the world, so often, and I didn't realize that it was just me. Alone. Against the world _and_ my fiancé."

"Grim."

"Accurate. Anyway. I need to get back to work." Kurt rose. "Are you going to be coming back here?"

"Depends."

"On Gunter?"

"Yep!"

"I'm going to check on my tables, but after…" Kurt touched her shoulder. "Do a song with me."

"I haven't sung in a while," Santana breezed.

"Not like our audience is particularly discerning in the area of musical prowess. They just like to see the pretty people sing for them." Kurt pointed at her and circled his finger around in a figure-eight. "Especially when they wear booty-hugging dresses that only come mid-thigh."

"I don't know. I already got booted from Broadway on Queen Diva Rachel's order. I'm not sure I want to tank my rep any further."

Kurt patted her back. "I _promise_-" He leaned in. "-having a rep would involve anyone knowing who you are. Beyond the Yeast-i-Stat girl."

Santana smiled slightly. She looked over his face, and again, something on her lips remained unsaid. Kurt could see it on her face as she changed topics.

"Does she still work here?"

"Nope. She tried for a while, to keep her 'cred,' but she can't handle the rehearsal schedule and go to NYADA at the same time. They're going to open, soon. Something had to go, and she doesn't really need the money."

Santana made a noise with her tongue and rolled her eyes again as she got up. "Let's do something by P!nk. In celebration of having that greasy, curly-haired growth removed."

* * *

><p>It wasn't terribly late when they left the diner, but it was dark. Santana was looking over her rehiring paperwork, and Kurt walked close by her side. Despite spending more time at NYADA's gym since school had restarted, Kurt was still a slim gay man, and Santana was a nearly feral cat who thought she was twice her actual size. Her heels clipped against the sidewalk, and her short, tight dress accentuated a nearly perfect figure that even Kurt had to admire.<p>

At the moment, New York street traffic was thick enough that an outright attack would be unlikely, but that didn't do much to keep Kurt's heart from racing. They were close to the area where Kitt had died, after all.

"What is it?" Santana asked as they neared the alley.

The plan was to go to the subway, of course, but Kurt couldn't help but be aware of its proximity. Kurt shook his head, swallowed, and quickened his pace.

Santana looked around, then back to Kurt with a deep frown in her brow. "Maybe a cab, hm?"

"It's not that far," Kurt murmured. "We can-"

He broke off and grabbed her hand tightly, moving in front of her as a large man came in their direction-

and passed them without slowing down.

Kurt sighed and looked up at the sky. People behind them made noises and walked around with irritation. He started to let Santana's hand go, but she wouldn't release. Instead, she interlocked their arms even more and pulled him close.

"You okay?"

Kurt just shook his head and looked away. His ears burned slightly. It felt like he'd exposed himself, but at the same time, he had to remember that he wasn't supposed to be playing that "I'm fine" game anymore. Even if he actually was feeling steady more and more often now.

"You know-" She squeezed his arm, almost protectively. "-half the reason I was so scared in high school… People were _awful_ to you. _I _was, too. I may not have been leading the Kurt Hate Parade, but I was at least a bystander. I didn't think I could be that brave, to deal with the death threats and getting shit on _every day_."

"I'm sure that was the reason no one in Glee tried to get you to come out. It's… It's complicated. You dealt with it in senior year, though."

"Brittany tried to get me to come out. But I wasn't gonna. Not until I was ready, no matter how much I loved her." She looked around and sighed. "You know, I figured, if you felt comfortable in New York, I would. Not that I didn't wanna go, but I figured,_everywhere_ is terrible; might as well get an education! College didn't work out for me, though, and New York was like this gay paradise. You were always the survivor. If you felt safe here, I could give it a go. And I had no problem, before, no matter what happened out here on the street." She rolled her eyes. "Men are _dumb_. Sometimes they do yell, or try to cop a feel, but it's nothing I can't handle. Nothing worse than Lima, and people here have a greater tolerance for some hollaback, y'know."

"I think you're minimizing your own fire and spit when we were in high school, but as Elliott says, this ain't high school, gurl."

Santana smiled and bowed her head toward him briefly. "Yeah, yeah, Ells. I don't know how you do it. I don't know that I could walk these streets every day and not feel _safe._It's not even people who want to grab and sleaze on you, but people who wanna _kill you_for something inside that you couldn't change even if you wanted to… The worst threat I ever got was some guy who thought he could turn me, like I didn't _try_ on every guy who offered before I finally admitted who I am… Lucky I won't have to _live_ in this area."

"It's not _every_ day for me, not anymore," Kurt clarified. He slowed his pace and walked to the side of traffic. "It's _here_. It took me a while to get back to work because this place was so close. I'm not scared that they'll be there in that alley, I just… I _remember_ what happened, how he died, and I can't help but react. It's not even a trick my mind plays on me; it's my mind and body reacting with an instinct I may not be able to put away. I like it at the diner, but… The only reason I haven't gotten another job is that I want to be able to give myself the chance to beat this."

He shrugged. "If it were worse, I'd remove myself from the situation without question. But I'm better than I was. My first day back at Vogue… Did you hear about that one?"

Santana shook her head slowly. Kurt held his hands out to her. Santana frowned and grabbed one, then studied it closely, moving her fingertips over the little scars, like she was reading his palm.

"That happened at _Vogue_? I might have to reassess my judgmental judgment of your job."

"That happened during a panic attack. Notice my practiced lack of flailing and screaming." He said it with a smile, and that earned him a dubious look from Santana.

"Just now, you grabbed me, and you stood _in front of me_, like you intended to save me from that pedestrian."

"I'm a walking contradiction."

"You're a superhero without the power." Santana looked around. "Is that the alley where it happened?"

"Yes." Kurt reached for her hand and when she reattached to him, he led her inside.

Nerves prickled in his hands and feet and down his back. He shouldn't test himself like this. Walking past every day after work was bad enough. But sometimes, he just felt drawn to the alley.

He walked them over to the spot where Kitt had been when the police found them. Almost instinctively, he began to tell Santana about laying there with Kitt as he took his last breaths.

Santana let his arm go. It wasn't cold, but she started to shake a little. She made a full turn, then grabbed his arm again and pulled him toward the opening back to the street. "You need to jump in some radioactive junk. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Stop _doing_ that crap. What would your dad say about this?"

"That I'm _weird_." Kurt snuggled into her arm and headed back in the direction of the subway. "And I am, I know. But at least I'm treading water now. Not being sucked under."

Santana looked at him seriously for a moment, then shook her head. "I still don't understand. But…" She went quiet for a moment, then said, almost angrily, "I'm glad you're still here, okay?"

"I'm glad you're back. Will you be okay if Dani comes over to Elliott's while we're there?"

"Should be, since I'm crashing at _her _place until I find an apartment." Santana flipped her hair. "Dani's new girl is hoooooot."

Kurt shook his head.

* * *

><p><strong>ADAM<strong>

"Adam!" The two girls on Adam's doorstep shouted in unison.

"Hey, girls," Adam replied smiling, opening the door and his arms wide. They both rushed in for a bearhug.

"It's. Been. Ages," Monica stated, clinging to his arm.

"Eternity," Clementine agreed.

"Come on now, I've only been gone for a month. It was hardly all summer," Adam replied, but squeezing them back just so anyway. After his time in the UK, their absolute disregard for his personal space reminded him that he was back in the States alright.

"_All summah_-" Monica echoed and grinned. "Oh how I missed hearing your cute British accent! You sound like David Beckham…"

"But David's from- Oh, nevermind. Just come in already, will you? I want to hear all about the Apples."

The girls came in and immediately started filling him in on the new relationship status of two couples in Adam's old musical theatre group. Adam listened to their ramblings with a fond smile on his lips. He _had_ asked, after all.

"…and now they keep suggesting we do these love songs, Adam, it's disgusting, they have no respect for singles, you simply _have_ to come back and lead us again!" Clementine finished in one breath.

"Actually, you know, the whole point of graduation is sort of… leaving school," Adam replied. "I was hoping to find a job here soon. I've been sending out applications like crazy, even from England, but I haven't heard back from any of them yet."

"Bummer."

"Quite."

"How will you be able to afford your place then?" Monica asked curiously. "Not much room for subletting…"

"I guess he could always rent out the couch-"

"Tea, anyone?" Adam got up and walked to his small kitchen. As much as he appreciated Monica and Clementine's concern, his mother and sister in Essex had been grilling him about getting a job for weeks, and he didn't really fancy going over it all again. Even though performing arts graduates weren't really sought after, he was confident he'd find something soon, even if it was something temporary. He wanted to stay in New York, even if in Essex he could have saved money by moving in with his mom.

"Hey, where's your frog?"

"Pardon?" Adam turned back to the couch, kettle in hand.

"That huge plush amphibian that lived on your couch. He was a great pillow," Clementine said, squirming a little to make herself comfortable with her short legs dangling far above the ground.

Adam froze for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant, and then knew.

"Oh! You mean Mr Oppy. He was Kurt's. That is, I got him for Kurt, and I finally got to give it to him a few weeks ago."

"Awww…" cooed the girls.

"You were such a cute couple," Monica sighed.

Adam beamed. "Well, I wasn't going to make a big announcement, but actually, Kurt and I have kind of started seeing each other again."

Clementine sat up. "Really? I thought he was with that other guy."

"Yeah, me too," Monica agreed.

"What other guy?" Adam asked. He had been away for a few weeks, and they hadn't really made anything official yet, but he'd assumed from their last conversations that they'd been heading in that direction. Kurt had seemed to want that, in any case.

"With the black hair?" Clementine added, gesturing at her own dark dreads.

"Short, lots of gel?" Adam asked, feeling his stomach sink a little. He didn't really think Kurt would take Blaine back, but then, he had before.

"No, tall. Hugely tall. And with guyliner?" Monica said. "I think he goes to NYU." She sighed. "Seriously, sometimes I think everyone in New York who is hot is either gay, taken, or both. It's just not fair."

The penny dropped. "Oh, you mean Elliott!" Adam let out, feeling relieved. "No, they're just good friends."

"Are you sure? I heard they were living together," Clementine said. "Theodor said so."

"Well, yes, but only until Blaine moved out of the loft," Adam assured them. "They are not a couple."

"Really? Because, I don't know, I only saw them once when Elliott was picking him up after his summer class with Professor Robillard, but they seemed awfully couple-y…"

Monica nodded. "I saw it too, Kurt kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and they shared a bagel and everything." She sighed.

"That's not so bad," Adam mumbled, though he did pull the lid off his cookie tin with a little more force than necessary. They really were just friends, right? He let his eyes wander over the kitchen surface as he tried to remember if Kurt had ever kissed_ his_cheek when they met each other in the halls of NYADA. Then he saw the cream-coloured envelope pinned to his memo board, and smiled, his confidence returning.

"Well, Kurt did invite me to a dinner party he is having to celebrate his callback for the lead in _Samael_," he said happily. "I'm fairly sure that Elliott will be there amusing everyone with the stories of his summer conquests. The guy has serious groupies."

"So does Kurt," Clementine replied drily, giving Adam a knowing look. Adam smiled. It was true. He was Kurt's number one fan, and he wasn't ashamed of that.

* * *

><p><strong>ELLIOTT<strong>

"No, no, man. Come on over." Elliott skimmed through the sheet music and bobbed his head to the guitars jamming in the background. "It's echo-y over there now. How am I supposed to live my life without someone from Lima crashing at my place?"

He was joking, but to be perfectly honest with himself, he missed having Kurt there. A lot of guys in New York, well. Club guys. They just wanted to hook up. And that was fine… it just didn't tend to result in having someone to spend your day with. It got lonely. Elliott had never been much of a wallflower back in Jersey, but he was dubious about New York. They had better schools for drama and arts, but he wondered about the people, sometimes.

But having Kurt in his apartment, even for a short time, meant someone to hang with in between NYU and the work thing. It meant Kurt wandering around in a tank top and pajama bottoms, with his lean, sinewy arm muscles exposed, and some green gunk on his face. And then, it meant them eating ice cream together on the couch while talking about old bands or watching movies.

Elliott didn't have much guilt about monopolizing Kurt's time away from Rachel and Santana before, and he had less now. Kurt smiled a lot more around him, after he'd started believing that Elliott, in fact, would not throw him away the moment something better came along, or step on his neck to take opportunity away from him.

"Okay, so how do you feel about _Hellraiser_?"

"Is this a serious question?" Kurt replied dryly.

Elliott's efforts to get Kurt into horror movies were failing pretty spectacularly. But it was fun to watch Kurt's face at what he saw.

"Or we could watch _Twilight_," Elliott joked. "They're pretty much the same gross out factor."

"No." Kurt said immediately. He sighed. "Those movies remind me of Blaine."

"Dude, I can so see that. Edward is a major creeper. Possessive, manipulative, controlling-"

"I was always on Team Jacob," Kurt said almost smugly.

"Ummm, Jacob wasn't a prize either. I never read it or anything, but my girl Valerie wrote an English paper on _Twilight_ and I remember large chunks of description where Jacob forces her to kiss him, and then blames _her_ when she gets hurt for fighting back."

Kurt was quiet for a moment.

"Then he's all, 'I know you were into it' and-" Elliott paused. "You okay? I'm sensin' not so good vibes."

"No, I'm just remembering the sheer extent to which my romantic life has been fucked up. I'll tell you about it some time. He wasn't quite like Jacob, but he was kind of furry. Well, he wore a gorilla suit, once, and he did the grabby kiss thing."

Elliott frowned.

"Come to think of it…" Kurt mused. "Blaine was kind of a grabby kisser, too… He never slammed me into anything, though…"

Elliott didn't want to fall into the rebound savior guy role, but he also sometimes kind of wanted to wrap Kurt up in a blanket and loom by his side to protect him. Being around Kurt brought out weird impulses in him. Normally, it was hard to break his calm, but he'd left his yoga class twice in the last few weeks because it was failing to settle his head.

"Anyway, not tonight. I'm preparing for the party tomorrow," Kurt said.

"Yeah? Maybe I could come help. Scrub floors. Hang crepe paper or something."

"Dani's really busy with Fara, isn't she?"

"Why can't you believe that I just wanna spend time with you? I'd rather clean with you than sit around in my apartment alone."

Elliott imagined them dusting and sweating and laughing together. Collapsing exhausted together on the sofa and lying bonelessly against one another.

"I appreciate the offer, but…"

"Oh, c'mon, dude. It's your party. You shouldn't have to put everything together."

"I kind of like putting everything together by myself. You should see me with a last minute, low budget wedding." Kurt paused for a moment. "Okay, give me an hour, distraction free, and then you can come over. But no Hell, with razors or otherwise."

"Yes!" Elliott pumped his fist. "If you need me to bring anything, text me. I can pop by the store."

"Oh, what would I do without you, Starchild."

Elliott set his music selections on the counter with a big dopey grin on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>KURT<strong>

Kurt looked over the loft one more time and smiled, pleased with what he saw. With Blaine's piano out of the way, there was just enough space to fit in an extra table to seat everyone he had invited. It also made it a lot easier for Artie to navigate his chair around the bookcase without chafing his knuckles on the rough wall. Instead of the peculiar fruity smell that had clung to the couch pillows when Blaine still lived in the loft, the place now smelled of freshly cut herbs and basmati rice. Kurt grinned. He hoped Elliott would be pleased with the Hummelised version of his curry, tweaked to make it a little less heavy on the stomach to leave room for a fabulous cheesecake dessert.

There was knocking at the sliding door, and with one glance at the mirror by the door to make sure the rice fumes hadn't flattened his hair, Kurt went to open it. His stomach fluttered a little. Although he was looking forward to seeing all of his friends, there was one in particular who made his heart beat just a little bit faster.

* * *

><p><strong>ADAM<strong>

Adam walked up to the door of the loft, glancing at his watch once more before he knocked. He was a little early, but he had found himself sitting at his apartment unable to wait any longer. Monica and Clementine had been right after all— it _did_ feel like he had been away for an eternity. He knocked and waited, his smile growing in anticipation of seeing Kurt. He hoped Kurt liked the souvenirs he had brought from the UK.

_Pull yourself together, Crawford,_ he told himself sternly. _You're not sixteen anymore. You're supposed to be the suave older guy here._

The door slid open and despite his internal admonitions, Adam smiled even brighter and started off with a rambling apology.

"Hi Kurt! I _know_- I'm a little early, but there were only two buses in this direction and the other one would have made me late and I didn't want to upset your dinner plans so I figured I'd better take the first. You can always put me to use in the kitchen or I can just sit somewhere quietly while you get ready-"

"I'm so glad you're here, Adam," Kurt cut him off, smiling and wrapping his arms around him for a tight hug. "And it's okay, Elliott's already here, too. He just helped me set up the finishing touches."

Adam returned the hug, squeezing him back and breathing in his scent. When Kurt started to let go, Adam's arms lingered around Kurt for a moment longer. He knew he had been the one who said they should take it slow, but holding Kurt felt like they had never broken up at all. Then Adam realized what Kurt had said, and that they weren't alone.

"Hey, man, long time no see," Elliott chimed in from the couch, waving at Adam.

"Um. Hello," Adam said, feeling a little awkward. But then Kurt was smiling at him and leading him into the room and asking him questions about his trip and his family, and Adam found himself unable to focus on Elliott and what his presence at the loft might say about his and Kurt's relationship. It wasn't important for now; he just wanted to talk to Kurt and make him smile at him like that some more.

Adam filled his friends in on everything he had been doing, livening up his account by imitating his sisters and their incessant questions about the U.S. (_'Can you really get free refills of everything all day long?')_ and his American friends ('_Is it true that they all have guns?'_) and answering Kurt's questions in return ('_Did you see anyone famous while you were in London?', 'What were people wearing? Are beanies really still a thing over there?_'). Every now and then Elliott would ask something too, sounding genuinely interested in what Adam had to say, and by the time Adam finished his story and reached into his bag to give Kurt the things he had brought, he had completely forgotten about Monica and Clementine's insinuations. Kurt loved the Prince George commemorative plate and the little solar-powered waving Queen figurine Adam had brought him (Adam had feared they might be a bit on the tacky side, but the gleam in Kurt's eyes told him they were _just right_). Elliott immediately demanded copies of Pippa's food column from the _Waitrose Kitchen_ magazine Adam had nicked from his mother just before he left.

Soon afterward Santana arrived with Dani, looking like she'd walked out of a fashion magazine. As soon as the door slid open for them, Dani came forward and hopped up to give Adam a hug. Santana wrinkled her nose and looked around.

"Is that curry, or have you three been gettin' your sweat up in great big _man-tangle_ in here? Hm? Hm?"

"Groooss," Dani laughed.

"Think we're gonna be the only ones at this shindig that wouldn't appreciate that image?" Santana put her hands on her hips and strolled over to take a look at the little waving Queen. "Maybe we should up the hotness factor a little. We could get some good cash from this if we swapped out Chubs the Space Vampire over there for Rough Trade Santa." She fanned herself. "Now _that_ guy had abs."

"Hey," Elliott protested, his eyes widening a little as he adjusted his shirt uncomfortably. Then he crossed his arms over himself.

Kurt stepped over to Elliott and wrapped an arm around his back defensively. "I love you, Santana, but I _do_ have duct tape if you keep being mean to my main man."

"Yeah." Dani moved to Elliott's other side. "Don't mess with the OTH, babe."

"Oh, my God," Santana chuckled. "I've riled up The Gang. Okay, whatever. Sorry, Sweet Cheeks."

She reached up to Elliott and pinched the side of his face.

"Wait, did you just say 'Rough Trade' Santa?" Elliott asked as Santana settled into a seat on the couch.

"Oh, oh, yes." Her eyes sparkled wickedly. "_Please_ let me tell this one, Kurt!"

That Santana had asked should've been a clue that this story was further on the side of risque than Adam was prepared to hear in a story about Kurt. Santana's telling _was_lighthearted, and Kurt _was _laughing, but it didn't make the reality of Kurt being tied up and robbed in his own home any less lurid. Adam's eyes kept drifting to Kurt. Elliott was now hugging him around the shoulders, clearly sharing similar thoughts to Adam.

Adam might've gone over as well, but the band seemed an impenetrable unit when together. He knew he should be pleased that Kurt had found such good friends while he was out of the picture, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little jealous. He didn't have long to ponder that sentiment, though.

When the next buzzer sounded, Kurt went over to the sound of a low male voice asking for help getting someone up the stairs, so Adam found himself recruited to head back down to the entrance. There he met Sam, Artie, and Mercedes, and then took the other side of Artie's wheelchair to heft it up the narrow staircase of the six floor walk-up.

"Dude, you must be ripped under that shirt," Sam said. "Do you ever do modeling?"

Adam laughed. "Oh, no."

"If you're as chiseled under there as your forearms are, you could probably walk onto some shoots now. Oil up. Get some grass, y'know?"

"Grass?" Adam furrowed his brow, assuming Sam meant weed, and shook his head. "I don't know about that."

Sam made a huffing sound and repositioned his hand on the arm of Artie's chair.

"No problem guys, just talk over my head," Artie said.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Adam said.

"Kidding. Thanks for the lift," Artie joked. "And don't mind Sam, he's always trying to get his friends into modeling. He actually convinced _me_ to join the photoshoot for the Men of McKinley calendar to raise money for Regionals."

"I _knew_ you looked familiar," Adam replied, suddenly connecting the dots. "Kurt still has that up in his part of the loft, you know."

"Which month?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Oh, I suppose it changes," Adam dodged, not sure if Kurt wanted the boys to know, "but I remember he said it was very tastefully done and he appreciated that you all signed it for him."

"I still got mine too," Mercedes said, smiling and glancing at Sam from the side. "Just as a keepsake, of course. And Artie's signature will be worth a lotta cash when his first blockbuster comes out."

"Damn right," Artie agreed.

They reached the top floor and put Artie's chair down. Both Sam and Adam were breathing hard from the effort, and Adam realized how lucky he was to be able to get everywhere on his own. He didn't think it'd be polite to ask Artie directly— not having only just met him— but it couldn't be easy having to navigate around New York in a wheelchair.

Kurt greeted each of his friends when they entered the loft, offering a hug to Mercedes and touching Artie's shoulder lightly. Mercedes took a moment to run her fingers over a lingering bruise on Kurt's face, and give it a kiss. Then Kurt showed off his scars with a little too much glee. Some of Kurt's friends, Adam knew, had more recently moved to New York, and the conversation reflected their settling in, finding things in their neighborhoods, and what restaurants they should try together.

Adam sat back and listened, enjoying the sight of Kurt interacting with his friends in a carefree way. Without his ex-boyfriend (or Rachel) overshadowing him and dominating almost every conversation, Kurt was free to catch up with his friends and share his own experiences of the city without being brushed off in favour of 'bowtie & Broadway' talk.

Then, the conversations were interrupted by the sound of "_I'm a diva! I'm a-I'm a diva! N-n-now diva is the female version of a hustler_!" coming from Kurt's pocket. "It's Rachel," Kurt explained, and Adam smirked a little. With that ringtone, who else would it have been?

Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his shoulders sagging a little when he read the message.

"I guess that means we can get started," he announced. "Rachel will be late. Apparently there's an emergency costume fitting directly after their rehearsal."

Santana snorted. "They probably need to let out her dress to make room for her huge, inflated ego." She mimed her sides growing bigger and bigger with her arms and filling her cheeks with air.

"_Santana_…" Kurt said sternly, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little. "I'll go and heat the rice."

"I'll help-"  
>"I can help-" both Elliott and Adam said at once, and then they looked at each other sheepishly.<p>

Kurt smirked. "I think I can manage," he replied.

Adam blushed, purposefully avoiding Santana's knowing look. Seeing as how Elliott decided to take Kurt's word for it and continued his conversation with Dani, Adam got up and followed Kurt to the kitchen.

"Is everything okay?" he asked carefully. "You seemed a little…"

"Disappointed that my so-called best friend can't be bothered to show up on time to celebrate my first professional success since I came to New York?" Kurt finished, and shrugged. "I guess I am, though I really don't know why I am still surprised. We sort of made up after the way she behaved when I had just gotten out of the hospital, but nothing really changed. Fanny comes first."

Adam nodded. He didn't know Rachel very well, but he personally thought she'd been that way even before she got the lead in a Broadway show. Back then, she had just been all about her then-boyfriend Brody. He wondered if there had _ever_ been a time she hadn't put herself above Kurt's needs.

"It doesn't matter. _You_ are all here," Kurt quickly said, brushing it off and smiling. He handed Adam a potholder. "Can you take out the vegetables?"

Adam did as he was told, and the two of them busied themselves with getting the table ready. In the larger living space, he could see people mingling. Mercedes was talking energetically with Santana, who was smiling more brightly than perhaps Adam ever had seen her. She even reached over and gave Artie's hair a muss. (He immediately smoothed it down again, but didn't seem to mind very much). Sam leaned casually against the back of the couch and was nodding along to something Elliott was saying, a very chill interchange with a lot of squinting on both sides.

When everything was on the table, Kurt lifted a glass and tapped on it with a spoon, summoning everyone over.

"I'd like to thank all of you for coming tonight," he said, then hesitated. "I know it's just a callback. I might not get the part. But I feel that it's an honor even to be considered for an important role like this, and it's… really the first concrete bit of success that I've found here in New York when it comes to theatre and performing." He shrugged. "I just wanted to share that with all of my closest friends, and what better way to bring the stray new New Yorkers together than food and wine?"

There was some chuckling around the table, and then Kurt made a motion ushering them to sit down and passed the dish of rice around first, making sure everyone was informed that the recipe was originally Elliott's and that they should be sure to leave some room for cheesecake later.

Although Kurt's friends thoughtfully tried to engage Adam into their conversations at the dinner table, there were a few moments where their jokes and shared memories went over his head. Adam didn't mind. The food was delicious, and he was fine just listening to their stories. Whenever that happened, Adam's eyes were drawn to Kurt. His reactions to what was said, whether they were smiles or pensive looks, told Adam how to interpret to stories (and the credibility of the narrator). But as he watched him, Adam couldn't help but remember what Clementine and Monica had told him about Kurt and Elliott. If he didn't know any better…

Kurt and Elliott were seated next to each other, and as they ate, Kurt's fork and Elliott's chopsticks would occasionally wander, picking something off the other's plate. Kurt made a neat row of olives on the side of his rice and left them there without comment for Elliott to take. In turn, as the salad was handed around, Kurt deftly speared Elliott's tomatoes onto his fork and transferred them to his own plate. Elliott refilled Kurt's glass as soon as it went empty, and Kurt handed Elliott the basket of naan without him having to ask for it. It was like a well-choreographed dance.

_Well, they did live together_, Adam reminded himself. _It doesn't mean anything. _Still, he could understand why outsiders would assume they were a couple. _But they weren't, were they? Kurt would have told him, wouldn't he?_

"So, Artie, how's the Brooklyn Film Academy?" Mercedes asked, rousing Adam from his thoughts.

"It's. Amazing," Artie said with a big grin. "I'm learning so much, and we get to use all of the school's equipment and because everything's digital now, no one cares if you take hours of experimental shots-"

"Yeah, it's not like you're wasting celluloid anymore," Mercedes commented.

"Exactly," Artie agreed, "and becoming a successful director is like becoming a pilot, you know? You gotta put in the flight hours."

"Tower, this is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby. Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full," Sam quoted in two voices, imitating the crackle of radio static and jet fighters whizzing by. "Come on. _Top Gun_?" He explained to the table of blank looks. "I feel the need…?"

"The need for _speed_!" Elliott replied, and laughed. "Man, it's been ages since I saw that."

Sam looked a little relieved.

"What about the ladies, Artie?" Mercedes prodded a little, her eyes glinting with a very different need— the need for juicy gossip.

Artie sat up straight. "It's _so_ different from high school. At McKinley, no one wanted anything to do with me because I was a nerd in a wheelchair who tucked my sweaters into my pleated khakis, but here, I do exactly the same thing, and everyone thinks it's cool. In high school I had to beg girls to go out with me. Here, I'm lady bait. I'm actually kind of dating three girls right now…"

"Alright, Artie!" Sam let out, holding up his hand for Artie to high five. But Mercedes was having none of that. She frowned a little.

"Wait, how can you date _three _girls? Are they down with that?"

"Well, not at the same time," Artie explained, squirming a little under the heavily judgemental look his friend gave him. "I'm just not really really to commit yet. They are all so different. There's this girl Vanessa, who is totally into French new wave and who really liked my short film about about Rags the homeless clown. She's nice and really hot, but I'm never really sure when she's having a good time because everything she says kind of sounds the same… and then there's Jess, she's a bit of a goth with blue and purple hair and she has all these piercings and tattoos-"

Dani made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat.

"-but the third girl, Julie, is the girl I really kind of got my eye on. She has a wonderful voice and she's doing my narration for Bags in the Wind, and she has the most amazing deep brown eyes…"

"So if you like that one best, why would you keep stringing the other two along?" Mercedes asked.

Artie shrugged awkwardly. "I just like all of them. I'm not exactly the most experienced when it comes to dating, you know? Apart from making sure I have enough condoms to get through the week, I don't really know what I'm doing. All I know is that I don't want to settle too soon and end up regretting my choice."

Adam had been following the conversation quietly up until now, but couldn't hold back any longer. "If you don't mind me saying," he started carefully, "I think you should let, ah… Vanessa and Jess? Know where they stand and let them make their own choice. It hardly seems fair if you keep your options open when they think you are exclusive. If you really care about them, I imagine you wouldn't want them to get hurt."

Mercedes nodded approvingly. Adam saw Kurt shift in his seat from the corner of his eye, and immediately felt a little guilty. He hadn't meant it as a covert dig to their previous relationship, even if it had probably come out that way.

"Also," Kurt added hesitantly, after a moment, selecting his words carefully, "you know, be prepared for their reaction. Being rejected _hurts_, no matter how you do it. Unless they're not invested to begin with. Even if you _do_ tell them that you're being casual, you want to be… honorable about it, and accept that they may not like being your second choice. And… they might have some anger about that. Because you know that you could easily be just as hurt if Julie chooses someone else."

"In other words, be prepared for bitches to get crazy," Santana said.

"That is _not_ what I'm saying!" Kurt protested. "I'm just saying… Fine, whatever."

Santana spread her hands and leaned over slightly. "Just think about the sitch between Quinn, Finn, and Rachel in high school. Any time Finn pulled away from Rachel, she came at us singing angry songs to publicly embarrass him and frenched Puck. After Finn dumped _Quinn_ at Coach Sylvester's sister's funeral, Quinn tried to get Kurt and Rachel suspended-"

"Wait, _what_?" Kurt said.

"-for frolicking around New York unsupervised on our Nationals trip, and then she chopped all her hair off, got a tattoo, and then she joined a girl gang and dyed her hair pink."

"I'm sorry, but this all sounds incredibly hot," Dani said. "Do that, Artie, and make girls go all punk and cute, okay?"

The group erupted in laughter. Kurt turned his head away from them, sipping his glass of wine slowly. Adam wondered if they needed to talk. Kurt's words hadn't seemed bitter or vindictive, but Adam worried that his warning to Artie seemed to implicate Kurt in less than 'honorable' behavior. They hadn't been exclusive, until they _were_, and Adam knew that Kurt had been struggling to get over his ex when Adam had decided, perhaps too quickly, that they should go out and start making their own memories. Deciding to cool things down had been, of course, Kurt's decision, but Adam had still been floored when Kurt came back from a trip to visit his father _engaged_.

And he _had_ been the one to kick Kurt out of the Apples and avoid him afterward. Santana might be right about 'bitches getting crazy.' Granted, the extended silence between them was more Blaine's fault than either Adam or Kurt, since he'd been the one to block Adam's number in Kurt's phone. Kurt clearly had never meant to just throw Adam away. But it still hadn't been a pleasant resolution to their first attempt at dating.

"Okay, I get it," Artie said after the laughter had died down. "But that's exactly the problem. I really like hanging out with them. If I pick one, I'm inevitably going to upset the other two. It's like Santana says, they might go crazy."

"Don't listen to her," Dani said. "Santana and I bumped ladies and _we're_ still friends. She's staying at my place."

"Because your new girlfriend is fucking gorgeous," Santana said with a laugh.

"I _do_ bring in the hot ones." Dani bobbed her head and ground her hips a little. "Seriously, though. Exes can be friends. It doesn't have to be high drama all the time."

"Don't let her fool you, dyke drama can be a fine art," Santana argued. "We're not all hemp, flowers, and sisterhood."

Artie laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I think Jess does hang with her ex a lot."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Sometimes exes _can't_ be friends, though."

The group grew a little quieter and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm talking about he who apparently shall not be named. There was no being friends after our first break up. It wasn't enough for him, and I always felt _pressured_ to get back together with him. It was like a persistently recurring affliction."

"You talk about him like he's a yeast infection," Mercedes said, shaking her head.

"Doesn't Kurt lack the parts for that?" Artie joked.

"_Anyone_ can get a yeast infection. I know more about that than I'd like, thanks to Yeast-A-Stat," Santana commented, and pretended to shudder.

"I think a yeast infection is putting it too mildly. I would go with malignant tumor…" Elliott added with a casual tone.

Sam frowned, but didn't argue with them. Adam wondered if Sam still hung out with Blaine sometimes. They had been best friends after all, and it was Kurt who broke up with Blaine, not Sam; though as far as he understood, the two of them did have a fight when Sam moved out.

"Okay, so, some exes can be friends, like me and Mercedes, and some can't, and be honest with your partners, but be prepared for drama," Sam summarized, clearly wanting to close the topic and move on.

"And always wear a raincoat," Kurt deadpanned. "In case of yeast."

Artie laughed hard and covered his mouth.

"Not all of us wear _a raincoat_," Santana shot back.

"Well, I've got some saran wrap in the kitchen-" Kurt offered, just before Santana reached over Adam's lap to shove Kurt's shoulder hard.

"Stop!"

* * *

><p><strong>KURT<strong>

Aside from a few tense moments, everything seemed to be going just fine with the party, and Kurt was pleased that all of his friends seemed able to get along. Really, the outlier had been Rachel and Santana, and since Rachel had never shown up, he didn't have to worry about them fighting again. Santana had promised to be cool, but she had difficulties keeping her temper in check, and truthfully, Kurt knew that Santana was still hurt by how Rachel had been behaving before Santana left for the summer.

It was a lingering wound. Kurt knew from repeated rides on the merry-go-round that was his relationship with Rachel how it felt to be discarded. He also knew by now that she wasn't going to change, any more than Blaine would, and he had to evaluate whether the good things about their relationship were worth saving.

Kurt genuinely hoped that Adam didn't really feel that way. He knew that he'd behaved badly in their relationship. He'd hidden things longer than he should have, he'd been sporadically too cheerful when he was really upset (forcing Adam to pry his feelings out of him), and worst of all, he'd been a poor judge at knowing his own heart. Getting back together with Blaine hadn't been a blip on the radar when he went home, but it had happened anyway, like being carried off by a tidal wave of sentiment shared by all of his family, and friends, and some enemies, too.

Of course, Kurt was getting too broody, because Elliott came over to him, sat right next to him on the couch the way they did during sleepovers, and refilled his wine glass. Kurt drank gratefully and rested his head on Elliott's shoulder. It was a comfort cuddle. Kurt fit perfectly against Elliott, and though he wasn't always interested in being physically comforted, he never minded Elliott's arm around him. He was tempted to purr a little, and make Elliott laugh.

Then his phone rang, and though it was an unfamiliar number, Kurt hoped it would be Rachel calling from somewhere, promising to be there for the tail end of their celebration.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Kurt Hummel? This is Officer Reynolds. I'm calling from the 83rd Precinct station. I'm sorry to disturb your evening."

Kurt went completely still for a moment, but his insides felt fluttery and unsettled. "What can I help you with, Officer?"

Annoyingly, his voice had jumped about an octave in nervousness. Elliott had noticed and began rubbing his shoulders.

"We've collected a few suspects in the case of the Allan murder case."

Kurt listened, bobbing his head as he numbly grabbed a notepad from the coffee table and took in the information given. "Y-yeah, I can do that. When?"

Kurt could hear his friends growing quiet around him. He continued the call with Officer Reynolds, getting the details he needed, and then thanking him for his call.

"Thank you. You're our only witness, Mr. Hummel. We need your help."

"Well, I'm happy to give it. Anything for Kitt. And to get those guys off the street."

When the call was over, Kurt looked up and bit his lower lip.

"What is it?" Adam said gently. "Are you alright, Kurt?"

Kurt gave him a half-hearted smile and took a breath. "They found suspects for Kitt's murder investigation. I need to go in for a line up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors' notes: ****This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles.**** (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)**

Sequel to Aftermath

Warnings: mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs

Summary: After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

**Elliott**

Elliott stuck around after the party to help clean up. Adam had to get up early for a job interview, so he'd been conscripted early to carry Artie back down the stairs. Most of the other guests had to get going for one reason or the other, and it didn't look like Rachel would be making it home anytime soon.

That left Elliott to shoo the lesbian cohort off, with a hug and a kiss to Dani. Thankfully Santana had settled on Sweet Cheeks instead of _Chubs_ for a nickname (for which Elliott was tremendously grateful). On their way out, Mercedes and Santana were talking intensely about songs they could collaborate on, so Elliott suspected a new group blooming. He'd heard that evening about how Mercedes had been dropped from her label, and it was clear that she and Santana were close. Much closer than he'd seen Santana with Rachel. There had always been this buzzing tension between them, even before the Battle of Broadway, with fake smiles from Rachel and earnest efforts not to speak as harshly from Santana. During their first rehearsal as Pamela Lansbury, Elliott would have guessed that Santana would be the one to break Rachel's heart, but it hadn't gone down that way.

And honestly, he couldn't say it was a bad thing that there didn't seem to be any peace being made between them. Elliott was a proponent of forgiveness, but didn't believe forgiveness was something one was _owed_. And there were also moments when it was vitally important to assess whether someone's presence in your life is truly good for you. He kind of hoped Santana had done that and realized she could find better friends than Rachel— such as Mercedes.

With the others gone, he washed dishes while Kurt hummed numbers from _The Sound of Music_, straightening up the rest of the apartment. Elliott felt another stab of gratitude to whatever higher power had given Kurt the strength to cut himself off from Blaine completely. He wasn't entirely certain, though, that Kurt was completely cognizant of how he deserved to be treated by friends and romantic partners.

"So, did you…" Elliott drew in a deep breath and rinsed off a plate. "You ever see Santa again?"

Kurt looked up from the couch with a little frown. "Santa…? _Oh_. His name was Cody… at least he said so. He could've been lying about that, like everything else."

"Did you?" Elliott pressed again.

"I saw him. Once. We didn't really talk. Don't tell Adam. It was after we'd met… but before we'd gone on any dates."

Kurt fussed with a couple of pillows, and Elliott watched him as the water continued to run.

"He gave me this _grin_," Kurt continued after a moment. "And he came toward me. And he said, 'I figured those rosy cheeks were just part of the costume.'"

He paused, looking up and rolling his tongue in his cheek.

"Did you call the cops?" Elliott asked. He started to rinse out the wine glasses.

"Um. No." Kurt scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "I didn't."

"Well, that's okay." Elliott hadn't exactly been expecting any new information about Santa, but Kurt was talking. That was good. "That must've been scary, seeing him again, after what he did to you. I know you and Santana were laughing, but…"

"It was a little funny… and a little scary." Kurt shrugged and walked over, holding his arms. "But I didn't run."

"'Course not." Elliott turned off the sink and smiled at him. "You're the bravest guy I know."

"I let him kiss me."

Elliott's brows shot up. "He… You? _Honey_."

"It didn't go any farther than that," Kurt said, his cheeks starting to go pink, "but… Elliott, he's _so_ gorgeous."

"He let you think you were going to have sex, and then _tied you up_ and stole from you." Elliott dried his hands on a towel and walked over, slowly. "You know I don't try to judge, but that's just, y'know. That's just being a great big assface."

Now Kurt looked humiliated, averting his gaze and holding his fingers anxiously, and Elliott felt that he'd come on too strong. He had just wanted to talk to Kurt about this string of abusive men in his life. He should have realized broaching a subject like that wouldn't leave things open for an easy, relaxed discussion. These men had _hurt_ Kurt. They made him feel like he deserved what he was getting, or at least Blaine had.

And what Elliott forgot sometimes was that Kurt was only nineteen. He wasn't yet the fully-formed adult that he pretended to be, and these awful, _awful_ relationships…

"Man, don't feel bad, okay? I'm your friend. I don't like being around judgy people, and I don't want to be one. I'm just worried." Elliott shrugged his shoulders and touched Kurt's arm gently. "I want you to be okay. Hearing that story tonight was kinda spooky, you know? I mean, you were basically assaulted, and you and Santana were making light of it… But I don't know that it's funny. Especially since, well, like you told me the other day, you've had guys who grabbed you, and hurt you. Not to mention you ended up in the hospital not that long ago."

"Cody didn't put me in the hospital," Kurt argued. "He just… He _looked _at me, and his eyes… He moved in to kiss me, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to stop, so I let him. That's all that happened."

"If… If he'd wanted to head to a motel…?"

Kurt's face grew redder, and he looked down.

"I am _not_ trying to shame you."

"You're just worried," Kurt repeated in a near whisper.

He was upset. That was clear. But his body language hadn't closed off completely, so Elliott opened his arms and folded Kurt into a big hug. Kurt leaned into him and sighed softly.

"I don't like stories where guys treat you badly."

"He didn't force me to do anything, Ell. When Cody tied me up— He could have, but he didn't."

"I don't think he gets bonus points for not raping you. I think, no matter how gorgeous this motherfucker is, listening when you say no is the _bare minimum_ for being consider a human being."

Kurt made a noise in his throat, and Elliott rubbed a hand over his back. He didn't know whether to push on this point or not. Kurt had gotten used to a lot of bullshit from people.

"You're an amazing guy, Kurt. I knew that the moment we met. Even when you criticized my outfit, I knew you were something special. You should never doubt that you are. Don't let these guys get away with hurting you, or making you unhappy, or making you feel like you don't matter."

Kurt hooked his chin over Elliott's shoulder and relaxed into him. "You sound like my dad."

Geez. That wasn't exactly the role Elliott wanted in Kurt's life. "Good. At least he has_that much _down."

Kurt gave Elliott a squeeze and then pulled back to look at him. "I know you don't approve-"

"It's not about _my _approval."

"Yeah, well. Anyway, I'm not going to see him again. I don't know _why_ I'm so attracted to a guy who's _basically_ Leonardo DiCaprio from_ Catch Me While You Can_!But with better abs. I've been around really attractive guys before, and you know, _not_ let them paw all over me."

"Well. Your first few relationships… They kind of set the tone for what you expect from future relationships. They set the bar for what's normal."

Kurt hugged his arms again and sucked in his lower lip as he listened.

Elliott spread his hands. "I think… If you have guys who manhandle you, who don't listen when you say no, who manipulate you and put you down, then that starts to feel normal… Maybe it even becomes something you associate as romantic or hot, or just what you think you deserve."

"I don't know. I mean, how am I supposed to know what a guy's going to really be like in a relationship? Blaine was a lot more accepting of all my freakishness before we started dating. At least with a guy who comes straight out and plays me, I know where he's coming from. The guy who pretends to be nice… What do I do with that? What will it be like when he finds out more about me?"

Kurt's eyes were wide, and genuine, and begging for an answer. Elliott didn't have one. He wished he did.

"I-I think I had that once," Kurt rubbed his temple and blinked several times. "Someone nice. Maybe. But… Elliott, that's _over_. I left him and broke his heart for a guy who put me down and _cheated_ on me. Adam was so good to me that I was always afraid he wouldn't want to be with me anymore when he found out how weird and messed up I really am, or that at some point he'd stop being so nice… And I wasn't _wrong_, not about the first part. Not that I blame him. All of this is a _lot_ to put up with, and I'm truly grateful that he still wants to be friends, even if… he doesn't want _me_ anymore."

Kurt shrugged and swallowed forcefully. "I'm just not good at relationships. I don't even know how to tell if a guy _likes me_. When I had a crush on Finn, before we were brothers, sometimes he was kind, and I thought, he just can't admit it. None of the other guys were kind. But I was _wrong_, and that really blew up… And then with Blaine, at first I thought he liked me, and then it was like he couldn't date everyone _around me _fast enough. Even _Rachel_. He dated _Rachel_."

Elliott screwed his brows together and let his mouth fall open. He shut it and shook his head. There really was no basement in hell for that kid's behavior. It was one thing to not like someone, make that clear, and then date other people, but dating someone's friends like that… and really, Rachel as a choice would be questionable anyway. She and Blaine were so alike; it would be impossible to get what they needed from a relationship with each other.

Elliott held his hands up. "Okay, can we just agree that any guy who starts acting like Blaine should be crossed off the possibilities list, immediately? I can't even wrap my head around the dude. He's just beyond the pale messed up."

Kurt bobbed his head in enthusiastic agreement. His eyes grew sad. "And then there was this other guy… I _didn't_ think he liked me, not really, but… He was kind of harassing me, threatening me, and it turned out that he had feelings for me. We've worked things out, but…"

"Well. Maybe with that guy— and maybe Blaine too— that isn't something you need to figure out. Maybe those guys just need some _therapy_," Elliott suggested. "I'm not throwing shade. I mean it. People get all kinds of messed up, and then they transfer that behavior onto people around them. You know? But that's not _your_ fault."

"Dave is in therapy now," Kurt said. "He, um, he's the one who threatened me. We're kind of friends. When I visit Lima, and via email, anyway. He deleted his Facebook after the kids at his school convinced him to try to commit suicide."

Tears stung Elliott's eyes as an instinctive reaction. "Glad he's talking to someone, then."

Kurt nodded again. Then he smiled, a little mischievously. "And you just wanted the dirt on Santa."

"Man, I've gotta get you in the room when I'm songwriting, because your teenage years are _all kinds of __**fucked up**_."

Kurt chuckled softly and dipped his head.

Elliott ruffled the back of his hair. "I dunno. I wanna protect you, but I also don't wanna be that guy who's like, controlling people, you know? I just asked because I felt like maybe you needed to talk to someone about this. Someone who wouldn't laugh or make it about them."

"Santana kept that secret for a long time," Kurt said seriously. "I asked her not to tell anyone, and… she really held onto that for me. But it happened almost nine months ago, and she wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't joked with her about it already. I started the laughing. It's kind of how I cope, sometimes. Dave and I still joke about him stalking me around the school in a gorilla suit, though at the time, when I found out it was him, I was a little creeped out."

Elliott smiled.

"If I need to talk, you'll be the first person I come to, okay?" Kurt reached over and took Elliott's hand. "You're one of the best listeners I've ever met. You're one of the only people I can trust to be wholeheartedly on my side, and still tell me exactly what you think."

"Yeah?" Elliott swung their hands between them, like little boys. "You want me to stay tonight? Rachel's not getting back any time soon. And I know going to the police station tomorrow isn't going to make sleeping easy."

"Sure." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm going to have to get another roommate. It's like I live by myself here."

"This is a sweet place. It wouldn't be that bad having it to yourself."

"I don't really like to be alone."

Elliott lifted Kurt's hand and kissed it. "You've got me and Dani. And Adam, too, I bet. Don't be afraid to ask, okay? We're still here for you, even if the bruises have gone away."

Kurt's eye narrowed slightly, and he looked up at Elliott so seriously that Elliott felt maybe he should have said something different. Was it too insensitive? Too embarrassing to need them?

"Save that one for your songwriting," Kurt teased.

Elliott clicked his tongue. "Pfft. You just wait. I'll put it in the next one, in your range, and you'll have to sing it."

"Joke's on you." Kurt snapped his fingers. "I love solos."

He let Elliott's hand go. "Do you want to go get some stuff from your place? We can go get it now, and then finish cleaning up when we get back."

"I'll get it when we're done. Give you time for a quick shower before I get back."

"It's late. You're not walking alone."

Elliott started to protest, but Kurt's tone had been so firm that he knew there would be no argument.

"Okay." Elliott rubbed a hand over Kurt's back and went to collect a few stray plates.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

"Don't worry, Hummel. We got this."

"I'm not worried."

Kurt's voice was low and flat, and to anyone else, he might have sounded confident, maybe even a little bored. But as Santana reached for his hand and squeezed it, Kurt knew she hadn't bought it at all. He squeezed back.

_I did not wear my man-killin' boots for nothing, Porcelain. I'm coming with you._ Santana hadn't asked for permission. She had simply shown up at the loft just as Kurt was about to leave (Kurt suspected she had badgered Elliott into telling her when he was going) wearing thigh-high stiletto boots and looking very fierce. Kurt smiled—he had also laced himself into his highest Doc Marten's and a zippered leather jacket; both their attires screaming 'don't mess with me'. As they stood and waited for the identification process to start, Kurt wondered how it had taken him so long to realize how much they had in common.

He was happy she had come along to the precinct. Kurt wanted Kitt's killers caught and brought to trial. But at the same time, the possibility of seeing them again made his stomach turn with nausea. It was enough that their hateful faces returned in his nightmares. He really didn't want to see them again in real life. At the same time, he was also anxious that they might _not_ be at the line-up. If the police were at a dead end with their investigation and had rounded up the wrong guys, the real killers were still out there. Kurt wanted them brought to justice; not just to get them off the streets, but for Kitt.

The door opened, and he let go of Santana's hand and brushed his sweaty palms down his jeans. This was it. Officer Reynolds had explained to them that they had made three arrests; the other three men in the line-up were volunteers of similar physical descriptions. It felt a bit like a test, but Officer Reynolds had assured them this was necessary to make the identification admissible in court. There would be absolutely no repercussions if Kurt accidentally 'accused' one of the volunteers. Reynolds had said that memories often blurred after traumatic events, and remembering physical details weeks afterwards was hard for everyone.

"Are you ready, Mr. Hummel?" a female officer asked him, and Kurt nodded. She led the two of them into a small, dimly lit room. Officer Reynolds and a representative of the State Attorney's office were present to witness Kurt's identification. After reassuring him that the men in the adjoining room could not see him, officer Reynolds pressed a button on a control board in front of them, and the light went on to reveal six men. Kurt breathed in sharply. His heart started to pound so loudly it was like it drained all of the other sounds from the room. _Do you think you're a fucking ninja or something?_ Kurt stared at the face of the man who had tried to choke him to death, who had succeeded in taking Kitt's life, and felt like the man's hand was around his throat again.

"Num- number four," he croaked, clearing his throat.

"Are you sure?" officer Reynolds asked.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "Can you… Can you please make him leave?" Kurt could not bear to see him, and he felt like he was seconds away from a panic attack.

"Of course." Officer Reynolds used the intercom to tell the man to leave the room. The man frowned at what to him would be a darkened mirror, and Kurt involuntarily took a small step back. He felt Santana's hand brush over his shoulder and then close firmly. She had a stronger grip than her delicate hands suggested. His eyes closed, as he focused on her touch and tried to calm himself. He waited for the man to go before looking at the others. His heart sank a little. One of them didn't even come close to his descriptions, another had the same build but very different features. The fifth kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The sixth man just looked bored. Kurt watched the nervous man the longest. He _looked_ guilty, but was it really him?

"Do you want someone to step forward?" Officer Reynolds offered.

Kurt asked him to make the nervous man walk up the mirror, and as he did, it became clear it wasn't him. It was hard to explain, but Kurt was sure. Whatever the man had on his conscience, it had nothing to do with Kitt. He was about to dismiss all of them when the sixth man caught his eye again.

"Can he step forward too?" Kurt asked.

The man did so. As he reached the mirror, he looked up and stared straight into Kurt's eyes, his lips twisting into a small smile. Kurt felt a chill roll down his spine, and then anger heating up his cheeks. "Yes. That's the man I kicked in the face." He felt like kicking him again now, for looking at him like that.

Kurt confirmed his identification again, and Officer Reynolds switched off the light in the other room and told them someone would take them to the reception area until some paperwork was drawn up for Kurt to sign.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked.

"They didn't get the third guy," Kurt said, ignoring her. Memories of the attack flooded his senses. "There was another guy, short, with big shoulders, he grabbed my arms after I-"

"Kurt. Are you okay?" Santana repeated. The edge in her tone made it clear she wouldn't let him dodge the question again and was prepared to slap him to get her answer.

Kurt forced himself to return to the present. "Yeah. I'm fine," he said.

"Then please let go of my arm before you cut off all circulation and my hand falls off," she said drily. Kurt looked down and noticed he had a death grip on her elbow. He quickly let go and mumbled an apology.

"That's alright, baby gay. What are a few bruises among friends, right?" Santana said lightly, patting his hand, and walking him out of the room.

To Kurt's surprise, they weren't the only ones headed to the reception area.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, almost not recognizing his ex-fiancé in the ill-fitting suede jacket he was wearing.

"Kurt!" Blaine replied, giving him a grateful look as he quickly walked up to them.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the hipster sausage man of Ohio," Santana drawled.

Blaine frowned at Santana, and Kurt could tell he was a little hurt. If Kurt was honest though, it really wasn't the best look on him. A different colour maybe. Or a larger size, at least. For a moment, they all just stood there. It felt awkward not to have Blaine come up and kiss his cheek, or even hug him. He had taken a small step forward but a forbidding look from Santana had stopped in him his tracks. It would have been too weird to shake hands, so they just sort of waited for the other to start a conversation.

"So, uh… I guess you were just in there?" Blaine finally said, nodding at the corridor that lead back to the identification room. "I was in over an hour ago. They had me waiting ever since. I don't even know why because I didn't identify anyone…" He trailed off and rolled his eyes.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "They were_ there_. Two of them were there. You didn't recognize them?"

"Well, I…" Blaine started, and his eyes shot to a corner of the room, somewhere high over Kurt's left shoulder. "I didn't actually see much that night, so… I mean, it was dark, and… it all went so fast…"

"Mmm…" Kurt let out, forcing a sympathetic smile onto his lips. It hadn't gone fast at all. He wanted to remind his ex-fiancé that when time is measured in pain, seconds can feel like hours—but what would be the point? He could never understand. Kurt hoped he would never _need_ to understand.

"That guy, Officer Reynolds? He kept asking me if I was sure. Like I didn't want to help them catch those guys who hurt you, you know?" Blaine offered.

"It's okay," Kurt said. "I know you want to help. And you did. I mean, you called the ambulance that eventually ran them off." It had taken a lot of late-night tea and talks with Elliott for Kurt to stop blaming Blaine, but in the end, he had come to realize that Blaine's cowardice was the norm and his own interference exceptional, not the other way around.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, smiling a little again. "Hey, you wanna get some coffee after this? Just to talk, I mean. This is some heavy stuff, I guess."

"I… don't think that's a good idea, Blaine," Kurt said carefully.

"Yeah, if Kurt needs someone to make today all about themselves and eat all his Milanos, he still has Rachel," Santana breezed. "As is, I think we're just gonna go ensconce him with his real friends for a few hours."

Santana looked at Kurt and pointed at him. "Don't even argue, gelfling. I'm taking your shift at the diner. It'll encourage our doucheboss to think about rehiring me anyway, and I already called Adam."

Kurt looked at her in surprise, but before he could say anything, Blaine did.

"Adam? Are you seeing him again?" he asked. He somehow managed to look crestfallen and angry at the same time.

Kurt pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. "That stopped being your business when we broke up, Blaine," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. Blaine didn't have to know Adam was just a friend. Thankfully they were spared further discussion as an officer called them to the desk to sign some final paperwork. As they signed, Blaine kept looking at him from the side as if he was brooding on something.

"Goodbye, Blaine," Kurt said, not wanting to hear it. Santana looped her arm around his elbow and they left, for all the world looking like the fiercest power couple on the block.

* * *

><p><strong>Adam<strong>

Kurt greeted Adam at the door to the loft with a warm smile and the most elaborate outfit Adam had ever seen him wear. It appeared he had only just come home, because he was still zipping himself out of several layers.

"It's very sweet of you to come," Kurt said as he put his jacket away, "though you really didn't have to."

"Oh, I _had_ to," Adam assured him. "Santana made it _quite _clear what would happen to my hindquarters if I didn't. Tell me, was she always this intimidating or did it intensify over summer?"

Kurt chuckled and shook his head a little. "Both, I guess. But I meant: I don't need a babysitter anymore. Elliott stayed the night, Santana escorted me to the station, and now here you are. I suppose Dani got the evening shift later? I appreciate it, but I'm a big boy, you know?"

"Of course you are, Kurt," Adam replied, smiling a little to mask his insecurity. "Elliott stayed the night?" he added lightly.

"He wanted to make sure I wasn't alone in case the upcoming line-up gave me nightmares," Kurt explained. "I told him I had Mr 'Oppy for that, but he insisted."

"Right. Mr 'Oppy. How is he? Still refusing to eat anything but imported French flies, I imagine?" Adam sat down on the couch, wondering why he hadn't _insisted,_ too.

Kurt laughed. "He's a gourmet, like me. Only the best for Mr 'Oppy." He sat down next to Adam and glanced at his clothes. "So how did your job interview go?"

Adam looked down and followed Kurt's eyes to his slim black tie. "Oh. Good, I think. It feels silly to dress up like this, but I wanted to make a good impression, you know? It's just an assistant's job, but…"

"It suits you," Kurt said, brushing his hand over Adam's arm. "Very professional." His hand lingered for a moment before he let it drop to play with one of the couch's buttons. "So what would you do on this job?"

Adam shrugged a little, his eyes on Kurt's slim fingers. "Pretty much anything the stage manager won't have time to do, I suppose. Help set up the prompt book, type out the rehearsal report, find props, manage catering for the crew… I suppose a large part will probably just be me driving back and forth to Starbucks to keep the lattes flowing." Adam smiled a little. "But it would be a start, and you never know, if the stage manager cracks under the pressure, I'd have to step up. It's like an understudy. And I'd get to see new plays before anyone else."

Kurt returned his smile. "It seems very… organizational," he offered carefully.

Adam nodded. "Of course I'd rather be on the stage myself," he admitted, "But I think I have to accept that I might have more chances as a behind-the-scenes man. You know, unnoticed but indispensable?" He winked at Kurt. "I did take a few management classes before I graduated so I'd have that on my resumé just in case. I won't stop auditioning for parts, but a callback like yours seems a little unlikely for me."

"Don't say that," Kurt replied, "You have talent! And you know I won't get that part anyway, I'll probably land in the chorus. Which is _fine_, I mean, it's more than I dared hope for…"

Adam shook his head. "I'm not bad, but I'm not _you_. You are exceptional, Kurt. Which is why you will get that part, and be amazing in it."

"Thanks," Kurt said.

"Anytime. Just make sure you remember me when you're famous. I'll be an expert latte-boy by then, you could hire me as your PA."

They both laughed. As they slowly came down from it, Adam realized he'd only been talking about himself so far—Kurt had a way of turning the conversation back on you. But he had actually come to support Kurt, even if their conversation so far had been fun. "So… how did it go today?" he asked gently. "If you want to talk about it, that is."

"I do," Kurt said after a few moments. Adam could tell he had made that decision consciously—it showed in the way Kurt held himself, his hands suddenly ceasing the fiddling with the couch buttons, his whole pose becoming more calm and determined. "I was able to identify two of the three men who attacked Kitt and me. The one I had kicked and-" he paused for a moment and briefly closed his eyes. "The one who killed Kitt and tried to kill me."

Adam bit his lip. He knew what had happened, more or less, and he knew how serious it had been, but being reminded of how close he had come to losing Kurt completely—not just as a boyfriend or as a friend, but as a person in his life—almost physically hurt.

"What was it like… seeing him again?" he asked. Before Adam left for England, Kurt seemed to be doing better than in those first weeks, when small things could trigger panic attacks. Seeing your almost-killer wasn't exactly a small thing, though.

Kurt pulled up a corner of his mouth. "I probably would have run if it hadn't been for Santana." He paused. "It was scary." He sighed. "But I'm glad I went. Whether they find the third man or not, these two will go on trial and pay for what they did to Kitt, I will make sure of that."

"Well, and if they have two, they might get the name of the third from one of them. You never know." Adam reached over and rubbed Kurt's back.

Kurt closed his eyes and let his head droop forward. He looked drained. The upcoming events surrounding the trial would be rough on him, for sure.

"Please know that, whatever happens, I'm available. And not at all in a babysitting or coddling way," Adam assured Kurt. "I enjoy being with you. It's no burden to spend time with you when you don't want to be alone."

Kurt dropped his head back against the couch and looked at Adam with big eyes and slightly parted lips. Then, "I really appreciate that. I enjoy being around you, too."

"Good." Adam clapped his hands together. "So, I thought we could start off our evening with a little cookie baking… if that's alright with you."

"Am I ever gonna say _no_ to cookies?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors' notes: ****This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles.**** (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)**

Sequel to Aftermath

Warnings: mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs

Summary: After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.

**A/N : Thanks to glorfindel-m on tumblr for the analysis of Kurt/Chris's vocal range.**

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three<strong>

****Kurt****

"Hey Kurt, some of us are going for sushi at that place on45th, are you coming?"

Kurt looked up and saw Chase smiling at him. It had taken a while for Kurt to stop feeling awkward around the other man after he had witnessed Kurt's break-down at the photoshoot, but after a few weeks of being back at without any incidents, Kurt had slowly regained his confidence. He was about to accept when he saw a familiar bright red peacoat in the corner of his eye… its wearer looking very determined to be let past the reception to get to his desk. He sighed.

"I wish I could," he said honestly. "I _really_ wish I could. But I think I have a Broadway emergency coming my way." He nodded towards Rachel, who was flipping her hair and gesturing animatedly at the bored-looking receptionist.

Chase followed his eyes and winced sympathetically. "Again?"

Kurt let out another deep sigh. "It appears so." Rachel, who hadn't bothered to come home on the night of his party until after midnight, had already barged into Vogue during his lunch break a few times since he had started working again, always expecting help or a last-minute makeover with clothes from Vogue's vault for 'important PR meetings for Fanny'… Kurt secretly wished he had never shown her where his office was.

"Do you want us to bring you back anything?" Chase offered.

"I would be eternally grateful," Kurt replied. His stomach was already growling, and it didn't seem likely that he'd be able to get rid of Rachel in time to get some lunch.

"Grateful enough to reconsider my offer?" Chase said, waggling his eyebrows a little.

Kurt tssked and rolled his eyes, but smiled good-naturedly at his colleague. Chase had been asking him out ever since he had started at last year, and although Kurt always said no (not wanting to start anything at his workplace), every once in a while Chase gave it another shot. It was kind of reassuring to know he still wanted to date Kurt even after having seen him lose it.

"Hey, it was worth a try," Chase said cheerfully, not discouraged in the least. "See you later, Kurt."

"_Bon appetit_!" Kurt held up his hand and waved at the receptionist, signaling her to let Rachel through. Nearly hitting Chase on his way out with another flip of her hair, Rachel stalked towards Kurt's desk.

"You won't _believe_ what Rupert Campion has just told me," she announced dramatically.

Kurt pressed his lips together in a thin smile of resignation. Yep, this would probably take his entire lunchbreak. "Let's go in here; Isabelle is out today," he offered, wanting to spare his colleagues the high and low pitches of Rachel's outburst, and led her into Isabelle's office.

"So, what did he say?" Kurt asked, sitting down on the chair opposite Isabelle's desk.

"Oh, he's all upset about the feedback from our workshopping upstate, and he's taking it out on me. It's so _unfair_. After some horrible comments on my dancing—which I totally suspect Cassandra July emailing him because it sounded just like her and you _know_ she has always been jealous of me—he said it was-" She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers. "-'time to stop playing Barbra playing Fanny, and to start actually _being_Fanny.'"

Kurt took a moment to take it all in. Unlikable as she could be, he found it unlikely that Ms. July would go as far as to contact the show's director to sabotage Rachel. It was far more probable that Mr. Campion had a trained eye for choreography and noticed the same things Ms. July had. Knowing he'd never win that argument, Kurt decided to focus on the second part of Rachel's complaint.

"What did he mean by that?" he asked, knowing she was going to tell him if he wanted her to or not.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Apparently I remind him too much of Barbra when I sing. How ridiculous is that? Of course I do! Barbra is Fanny, Fanny is Barbra! There's no other way to sing her songs."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded sympathetically. He could tell her about his audition for Tony with "Greatest Star" (and remind her that Barbra never climbed scaffoldings or whirled sai swords), but then she'd only throw it back in his face that he didn't get the part. When Rachel had made up her mind to play the victim, nothing could convince her that the world wasn't out to get her.

"Maybe they just want a fresh take on it, you know, like those directors who put on Shakespeare in the nude?"

"Then why did they take me?" Rachel complained. "Campion was there when I read with Paolo at my audition; they knew what they were getting. If they don't want me to do it like Barbra, why did they choose me at all?"

"Is that what you said to Mr. Campion?" Kurt asked, repressing a wince. Rachel had never been very good with criticism, but this was her _career_ on the line.

"I did," Rachel confirmed, and Kurt's heart sank.

"And?" he asked.

"He told me to take the rest of the day off to 'think about it' and that we'd 'discuss it further tomorrow.'" Rachel used quotation marks again (twice) and rolled her eyes. "You know, I'm the _star_. I'm the Fanny here! Without me, there _is no Fanny. _If I walk-"

"Your understudy gets the part," Kurt interjected in a near scolding tone. "Rachel, listen. His giving you, and probably himself, time to cool off? This is a good thing. He could have just fired you on the spot-"

"He wouldn't _do_ that-"

"And he didn't," Kurt continued more gently, "Lucky for you. He still wants you to play Fanny, Rachel. But he's the director. He gets to call the shots. So if he wants you to do it differently…"

"_Sydney_ calls the shots. And he likes what I do. I told Rupert to talk to him about it."

"Okay, Rachel, just stop," Kurt said, raising his hands as if he physically had to stop her. "Do you have _any_ idea what you are doing right now? You're risking _everything_. Just because you got this part doesn't mean they can't take it away from you. Broadway is a_business_, not a Glee club, where you can just… storm out like a diva and turn up the next day with a plate of cookies and expect everything to be okay again. Mr. Campion, he's…" Kurt waved one of his hands in a helpless gesture as he felt he was reaching the end of his arguments, "He's not your teacher, or your friend—he's not even your enemy. He's your _boss_. And if you refuse to do your job, there are plenty of other-"

"Oh my God, Kurt, is that what you really think I should do?" Rachel cut him off. "Do my_job_ even if it compromises my artistic integrity and Barbra's legacy? Really?"

"I didn't say that-" Kurt started, but Rachel shook her head.

"You know, I came to get some comfort and understanding from my _best friend_, and all you do is take their side!"

"I'm _not_. I just don't want you to throw away your lifetime dream just because you don't like people telling you what to do."

"That is _not_ what I'm doing!" Rachel huffed.

"Yes, it is!" Kurt shot up and crossed his arms at her. "Honey! You came to me for advice! I think you know you need perspective and not just someone who agrees with you, or you'd call your _dads_. Dial down the diva, and just _listen. _I love you, Rachel, but there's a time and place for you to fight for your… 'artistic integrity' and your right to do a very, very loud imitation of Barbra-"

"How did you know what the critics said?"

"-and that time is _not_ weeks before Opening Night. Just… listen to what Campion has to say tomorrow. Maybe it's not so bad. He wants this musical to be a hit, too, you know. That's _his_ job. He's not criticizing you to sabotage you."

Rachel took a deep breath. "I know," she admitted. She pressed a palm to her reddened cheek and took another slow breath. "And I know you're just trying to protect me."

Kurt let out a silent prayer of gratitude to whoever was listening up there. Lord Bowie, maybe. "Thank you," he said. "I am."

"Do you want to go out and get a bagel?" Rachel offered.

Kurt checked his watch. "I can't. Isabelle will be back soon. And Chase is bringing me sushi."

"Ooh…is he?" Rachel cooed.

"It's not what you think," Kurt said immediately. "He's just a colleague. It feels like I only just broke up with Blaine-"

"It's been more than a month!"

"- so I'm really not ready to start dating again," Kurt finished, ignoring Rachel's interruption. It was true. He'd been with Blaine for such a long time that he was only still getting used to _not _being with Blaine; it felt weird, and he could really do without the added weirdness of a new romance. And to make matters even weirder, there were these butterflies he had to deal with every time he saw Adam or something that reminded Kurt of him. Which was really unfortunate because, as he had already told Elliott, he had ruined his chances with Adam.

"Well, if you _say _so…" Rachel teased.

Kurt shook his head and started to shoo her out of Isabelle's office. If she left now, he'd still have a few minutes of his lunch break left to go through the song he had chosen for his callback.

"Oh, there's one more thing…" Rachel started, turning around to face Kurt. Kurt saw his hopes of time to himself dwindle.

"What?"

"Could you cover for me at Professor Keely's class? I told Rupert I'd be there tomorrow at 10 am." Rachel put on her version of puppy eyes and blinked at Kurt hopefully.

Kurt ran his tongue over his teeth as he decided what to say. Saying yes would get her out of his office more quickly. "Fine. I'll tell him you had an urgent doctor's appointment. He's not allowed to ask any details on that, but if he does, I'll imply _lady issues_." He rolled his eyes.

Rachel squeaked happily. "You're the best!" she let out, and hugged him.

"I know," Kurt mumbled. "Now go. I have work to do."

* * *

><p>Five steps out of the Conde Nast building and the skies opened on Kurt, proving that today he indeed had a dark cloud following him. Clearly his audition tonight was going to go just as well. Pressed with the choice to protect himself or his bag with his laptop full of notes and documents, Kurt tucked his bag under his jacket and bent over slightly. The rain pounded down on him, and he scurried down into the subway.<p>

It was a short respite. The rain had stopped for a few minutes when Kurt emerged, lifting his hopes… Then the deluge came again, even harder.

"How did you follow me?" Kurt shouted at the sky.

Of course, he knew that if the storm was traveling south, he was going in the same direction, and therefore, it was his fault and not the storm's. But he didn't care. Yelling at something helped his mood and scared less experienced New Yorkers out of his path.

Kurt was up the stairs of the familiar building before he acknowledged that he really needed to stop showing up like this. It wasn't that much farther to his apartment, but Kurt could barely see in front of him, and his laptop was in danger. He pressed on the buzzer and hoped that someone was home.

"Whoa!" Elliott spotted Kurt as he descended, and then began to hurry down. "Hang on, man."

Kurt hurried inside as Elliott opened the door and gave a full-bodied shudder.

"Damn. I'm glad I got home early. Why didn't you stop somewhere?"

"I dunno. I was just trying to get back. I need to practice my callback piece and then put an appropriate ensemble together." Kurt went up the stairs with him, Elliott's warm arm over his drenched shoulders.

When they reached the apartment, Elliott went to get some towels, and came back with a pair of sweatpants and a black band t-shirt that read in pink letters, "Pansy Division." He dropped the clothes on the sofa came over to rustle the towel over Kurt's wet hair.

"Awwww, my hair's gonna be so crazy by the time I get there," Kurt whined.

"What time is it?" Elliott asked, calm as ever.

"Seven."

"Pfft. Kurt, you have hours. Let's get you dried off, first, and then you can practice with me."

"I guess." Kurt pulled away from the toweling and shook his head. His hair was sticking up at weird angles, thanks to the now sodden hair wax that he used to style without weighing his hair down. "Thanks for taking in this wet cat."

"Aww. Well, he's a cute one. And he lets me ride his coattails to some of the hottest venues in the city. I can't resist." He patted a second towel down Kurt's shoulders, smiling gently. "We should get you changed. At least for now, and when you've dried off, we can take you to the loft, or… Actually, you know what? Lemme call Dani. I think she's free right now, and she could pick up your audition outfit."

"I was _wearing it_."

Elliott shrugged easily and tossed the clothes at him. "I'm sure you have at least a dozen amazing outfits in your closet. If she answers, you can tell her what to bring, and you can choose from there. I'm pretty sure I have some of your hair and face stuff over here, still. But if you need something else she could bring it, too."

Kurt raised a brow and went into the bedroom to change. "You're always so calm. You're like my gay Yoda."

"What makes you think Yoda wasn't gay? What woman did you ever see him with?" Elliott contorted his voice into a bizarre croak, "Skirt-chaser not am I! Dick I love!"

"Oh, my God! Stop!"

Kurt pulled the Pansy Division shirt over his head and padded back out into the living room. Somehow he liked wearing Elliott's clothes, even though he'd only done it a few times, and they were always too big (because Elliott was a giant next to Kurt). They made Kurt feel surrounded and warm. Of course, anything would have been warm after the fall rain pelting him out there.

"Well, I don't know why you can't just wear that to the audition." Elliott gestured toward Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Suddenly you're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid _of_."

Elliott frowned and tilted his head to the side. "What?"

"Nothing. It's from a movie. I need _my _outfit. And definitely _bright, positive_ colors! I don't know what pink means, but black on a wet cat isn't good!" Kurt walked over to the couch and pulled up the sweats, which were slipping down his hips. A few birds of his newest tattoo had escaped and were visible, flying just above his hipbone.

"Okay. So, I _call-_" Elliott held up his phone. "You _tea_? You don't want anything to happen to those golden pipes before you become… king of the underworld, or… whatever it is you're doing in that play. The call sheet confused me."

"The premise is a little out there." Kurt went into the kitchen and put the kettle under the faucet. "But it's not that uncommon a story arc: A boy whose family tries to push him into the family business rejects his upbringing when he falls in love." Kurt shrugged. "It's your typical coming-of-age story, only that… you know, the family business is contract killing_,_and his family are all demons—as in his family isn't just from the _underworld_ in a godfather kind of sense, but from the actual Underworld." He grinned. A year ago, Kurt wouldn't have imagined even auditioning for such a part, but when he saw the callsheet a few weeks ago, he knew he wanted to try. And demon assassin or not, in the end, it was a musical about love conquering all things—and after everything that had happened, that was actually just the kind of thing he wanted to sing about.

Elliott shrugged and dialed. Kurt looked through the tea cabinet for the Darjeeling… then pulled out some chai for Elliott. He would probably like a cup as well, given the weather. His hands moved automatically to find the spoons and the sugar and the cups and set them out in a neat row.

"Thanks, man. I'll get him on." Elliott handed the phone to Kurt.

"Hey."

"Hey, sweetie! I hear you've gotten yourself in a pinch."

"It's not the worst pinch in the world, but to be fair, this day hasn't been my best… actually not my worst either. I've had some extremes," Kurt said. He leaned back against the counter and pulled on his sweatpants again. "You like rooibos, right? More than chai?"

Dani giggled. "Yes, especially Elliott's nasty gingery chai. Rooibos me up!"

"We'll have it waiting for you!"

"Thanks, babe. What do you need me to pick up? I'm on my way over, with, you know, that brilliant invention called the umbrella!"

Kurt stayed on the phone with Dani for another minute telling her which items to pull.

"She'll be here in a few." Kurt stepped over towards the couch where Elliott was sitting and his sweats slipped again. Kurt caught them, and flushed. "And here I thought my big booty would keep these up."

Elliott grinned. "You know you gotta tie the drawstring, right?"

"It's stuck!" Kurt protested.

Elliott rose and came over to Kurt, putting his hands on Kurt's hips and giving the sweats a little jerk. Suddenly, Kurt wasn't just comfortably, fuzzy warm. His cheeks were burning and his heart sped up. Elliott pulled the end of the drawstring out of the waistband where it had been hiding, and then started to tie them together.

"Th-thanks." Kurt swallowed and looked determinedly at Elliott's guitar.

"What is it?"

One of Elliott's large hands was still on Kurt's hip, and Kurt didn't know what he should say. They'd never had a problem curling up together, walking around in towels or in the middle of dressing. But suddenly…

The kettle blew. Kurt turned around swiftly to take it off the burner.

"Hey. Kurt. Is something wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing. No, it's um…" Kurt shook his head and poured hot water into two of the mugs. "I'm just, um, being weird."

"Weird?"

Elliott came to stand by his side, and Kurt looked up at him. Elliott raised both of his brows, in that way that he did, skeptical that the whole truth was being given.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Kurt stirred some sugar into his cup and slowly put the spoon down.

"Oh. I figured I got a little too touchy, and it made you uncomfortable."

"Well, not _bad_ uncomfortable."

"Not bad?" Elliott bobbed his head from side to side. "As in good?"

"I don't know."

Elliott sucked his lips in, then reached over to brush his hand over Kurt's destroyed hair. "So…

This okay?"

"That's fine."

"How about…" Elliott moved his hand down slowly to Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt felt his cheeks getting hot again. Not that his shoulders were an erogenous zone, but now he was thinking about being handled delicately, in a state of undress, and holy_god_, had it been a long time.

Elliott's lips cracked into a big smile, and he touched Kurt's side gently, this time over the shirt, and higher than his hip. Kurt felt himself moving closer to Elliott's warm chest. He didn't know why he would react like this… other than the fact that Elliott was obviously a good-looking man, and it had been too long, and Elliott wasn't saying no…

Kurt lifted his chin. He could see the delight sparkling in Elliott's eyes just before their lips met, briefly, in a wisp of a kiss. Then Kurt stepped back and looked at Elliott seriously.

"I don't know…"

"That's okay."

"It's too soon. Not for uh, us. For me. With anyone, I think." Kurt rubbed a hand over his forehead and shook his head in frustration. What was he doing? He'd _just _told Rachel he wasn't going to be dating anytime soon!

"Kurt, it's _okay_. You just seemed like you might want to."

Had he? Well, he had been the one to initiate. Elliott had lingered in the kiss, waiting on Kurt's response. Kurt furrowed his brow deeply as he looked into Elliott's face. Elliott wasn't angry, or even looking like he might push for more.

"How long have you-? Was that just… the rain, and the tea, and my irresistible outfit?" Kurt asked. Things would make more sense if this was a spur of the moment thing, with Elliott feeling in the mood and Kurt being conveniently there. It happened like that, didn't it? Like when Blaine kissed him after Pavarotti died, or Cody feeling frisky in the middle of a job.

"You have no idea what a catch you are, do you?" Elliott shrugged his shoulders. "Since forever. Since I met you. I mean, it wasn't love at first sight or anything, but you're mad attractive—even in sweats—and I was drawn to you pretty much from the start. I'm glad we got to be friends, because you've got this awesome creative brain, and I like you and we get along really well. I'd be more than okay with building on our friendship and taking the next step."

"I just didn't know. I didn't ever think about it- Not that _you're_ not attractive!" The words left Kurt's mouth and he suddenly realized how it must have sounded. But when he'd first met Elliott, he had been _engaged_—and later, when they had become friends, he had been too occupied enjoying the easy camaraderie of Elliott's company to consider falling for him.

Elliott let out a booming laugh. "Dude, it's fine. You don't have to suddenly declare marriage. I'm not like that. You've got this audition today, and you _said_ you're not ready. Just… Y'know, you could think about it. I thought I'd wait a little longer before suggesting it anyway, but that little blush made me wonder…"

He shook his head and picked up Kurt's tea to hand to him. "Just relax, man. We're fine, and I'm not going to push you."

"I never thought you would." Kurt wrapped his fingers around the warm mug and breathed in the scent of the tea. Hot and sweet. "You've never been anything but this strong, calm influence in my life. I've really needed someone grounded like you around. But… I'm not good at relationships. I don't ever want to hurt you. I think I'm a little unnerved that I could."

Elliott made a scoffing sound as he took his own tea, and then he took a big sip, without sugar and without blowing on it. "I know your entire romantic history. And you practically know mine. If you hurt me, it's not exactly going to be your fault only. I'm not walking in blind. But I don't think you've ever done anything that awful, and as long as we're honest about how we feel about things, it should be okay." He took another drink and set the cup aside. "You know it'll be fine either way, right? I'm down, but if you're not, a relationship takes two people's wills to become a whole."

"So two become one? Like the Spice Girls song?"

Elliott grinned.

Kurt looked down at his tea. He was perfectly toasty now. He drank it quietly, and Elliott came over and rubbed his back.

"If I were giving Rachel or one of the girls advice," Kurt said. "I'd tell them that sometimes you can have a reaction to someone, but it doesn't mean that it's meant to be." Kurt let out a slow breath. "And I still think this is too soon after Blaine really to have a relationship with anyone. Even though I don't like being alone."

"Yeah, I know you don't. And so it's important that you not leap into anything just to avoid that. You have me as a friend either way. You might change how you feel about being single, though. After you've been swinging free for a while, you start to like the feeling. The problem is that you've never really done it. You barely had the chance after Blaine the first time."

Kurt nodded. He set his tea down and reached over to touch Elliott's chest. Elliott raised a brow and moved his hand over Kurt's.

"I'm just curious…" Kurt muttered. Elliott gave a soft nod. "It's weird to me that you'd be interested, but… not want me to lock it down and give you an answer right now."

"It's 'cause I'm not a psycho. And because I know exactly how crazy the last two months- well, the last _year_ has been for you." Elliott moved his hand tentatively over the back of Kurt's head. "I don't want to lock you down or lock you up. I want you to be by my side. I want you to be happy with me."

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and sighed at the feel of Elliott's fingers delicately mussing the back of his hair.

"Kiss me, one more time?" he asked.

"Okay. Tasting the milk, I get it. Just let me know if it's too much?"

Elliott moved his hand down Kurt's back and rested it halfway down. His other hand caressed the side of Kurt's cheek, and for a moment, Kurt fought the urge to pull back, but Elliott's hands remained soft and didn't try to hold Kurt still. Instead, Elliott drew his fingers along Kurt's jaw, first on the outside, and then under his chin, causing him to angle his head back. The touch was tender, almost worshipful. Kurt almost purred.

Then their lips met, more firmly this time, and Kurt tasted the spices on Elliott's breath. The same feeling as earlier overtook him. This was nice, familiar and new at the same time. It was so unlike kissing Blaine, who had had the tendency to push and control, holding Kurt into place—and also quite unlike kissing Cody (drunk or sober), which had been wild and exciting, but just a bit scary. Elliott was both undemanding and inviting; their kiss an exchange between equals. Kurt had only felt like that with one other person before (and the taste of tea on Elliott's lips matched that memory perfectly, aside from the flavor). He didn't realize until now just how much he had missed kissing someone like this. He never wanted it to stop… but it eventually had to, because the doorbell rang.

"I'd better let Dani in," Elliott mumbled against Kurt's lips.

"Mmm. Yes. I do need my stuff," Kurt agreed reluctantly, kissing Elliott once more before pulling away. Elliott was looking a little glowy, and he knew he was probably a bit flushed himself.

"Okay?" Elliott asked, gesturing at the door.

Kurt quickly ran a hand through his messy hair and nodded. Whew. Well, that was definitely something to think about.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Kurt arrived at the small Broadway theatre with his hair freshly washed and styled and wearing his second outfit of choice. Both Dani and Elliott had reassured him he looked great (and somehow, Elliott's eyes on him—and his approval—had felt just a little bit sexier than usual). Kurt hoped they hadn't been too awkward around Dani, but he thought they had managed quite well.<p>

As it turned out, he was sharing his callback with two other men and three women. They were all called to the stage at the same time. The director Alison Shaughnessy, who hadn't been present at the first round, briefly introduced herself, and then announced that in order to cast the leading roles for _Samael_, the men and women would first sing a solo of their choice, and then, based on their performance, be paired up together to test their chemistry. Kurt glanced at the other men and felt his self-confidence wane. The two other men, Marco and Paul, were both strapping men with long dancer's bodies and guns a'packing. Was this going to be like auditioning for Tony all over again? The words of Miss Pillsbury, Artie, and Coach Beiste echoed in his mind. _Toothpick arms_? Well, not anymore due to NYADA's stage combat classes and his hours at the gym. But compared to the other two men, Kurt still looked less buff, less masculine - more '_like a lady._'

He gritted his teeth. Suddenly, determination flooded his system. He hadn't started auditioning for roles with his face busted up for nothing. He was a survivor, and his life had never been easy, but he could definitely do this. And once he got the part, he'd be sure to invite all of them, to make them see that he was an artist, capable of slipping into any role; even that of the romantic leading man. Well, leading _demon_, anyway.

After singing his solo—Kurt had chosen to reprise his success with "Bring Him Home," figuring that a song he had beaten Rachel Berry with would bring him luck—he was paired with a young woman who introduced herself as Sofia, a third year student of music and theatre from New Jersey. They got half an hour to prepare a duet.

"I was hoping I'd be paired up with you," Sofia admitted, glancing at Kurt from the side as they made their way to a quiet part of the theatre to rehearse.

"Oh?" Kurt replied, not sure what to make of that, or why she was blushing.

"Your song was _so_ beautiful, and… um… so are you." Sofia blushed. "I'd probably _die_ if we got cast as Rosalinde and Samael."

"Um…Thanks. I liked yours, too," Kurt said, feeling a little awkward. "So, what song do you want to sing?"

"Well, they want chemistry, so… it should be something romantic," Sofia replied eagerly.

Together, they went through a few options, both wanting to find a song that would showcase their own voice as well as give them the opportunity to do some acting. The more they talked, the more Kurt suspected Sofia wouldn't even have to act that much. She seemed to genuinely be attracted to him and was showing it the way Kurt knew from the movies he used to watch with Rachel and Mercedes at movie night: She was smiling a lot, laughed at every little joke he made, twirled strands of hair around her finger, and at some point complained about the 'stifling air' in the theatre and took off her blouse to continue singing in her tank top. It was a little unnerving. The last time a girl had been interested in him, he had ended up with a smashed in windshield. Girls could be unpredictable and a little crazy when in love. Still, anything that might help his audition was a good thing, right?

They ended up performing "Sun and Moon" from Miss Saigon, a song they both knew well (though Kurt admittedly was more familiar with Kim's part as Blaine always insisted on singing Chris' lines—it was a welcome change to have someone else tackle the high notes for once). As they circled each other and sang of passion and wonderment of a new love, Kurt thought about the way Finn used to look at Rachel when they sang, with that honest expression that seemed to say "this is all I got, it's not much but it's all yours." For the duration of the song, he was Sofia's, and she was his. They hadn't practiced the kiss at the end, but it happened spontaneously as they came into their final pose, hands clasped and faces close together. Despite her enthusiasm during rehearsal, Kurt half-expected Sofia to laugh or pull away, but instead she closed her eyes and leaned in. So he kissed her, and cheated a little by letting his mind skip to that afternoon in Elliott's flat.

The small group of people in the theatre applauded, even their competitors. Kurt and Sofia beamed from ear to ear as they got off the stage. "We _so _got this," Sofia whispered, squeezing his hand and planting a kiss on his cheek before letting go.

Kurt felt pretty confident too. He knew he had done well in his lower register, and no one had cracked up or booed them off the stage. _Of course_ they hadn't, he reminded himself—these were _professionals_. He knew for a fact he wasn't the first gay man to play a heterosexual part on Broadway. Still, it was hard shaking off all of his Lima baggage and negative expectations at will. That he had auditioned at all was a step in the right direction.

After all three couples had sung, the director and her assistants took a small break to discuss the casting. Kurt and the others were left to themselves, and for a few awkward moments, everyone just rehydrated and checked their phones to seem occupied (Kurt had two messages, one from Elliott and one from Adam—both wishing him good luck, and a kissy-face emoticon from Elliott). Then one of the other men suddenly spoke.

"You go to NYADA, don't you?" he asked Kurt. His name was Marco, and he had a deep baritone voice, sienna-colored skin, and full lips. He had auditioned with a piece from_Don Giovanni,_ which had blown Kurt away, but his duet with Marissa, a thin-voiced girl with too much make-up on, had been bland and didn't do his voice justice at all.

"Uh, yes," Kurt replied. "Are you a student there?"

"Oh no, I didn't get in," Marco said quickly, "but I still follow the blogs and attend as many open classes as I can. I heard you won Midnight Madness last year."

"I did, but that was just-" Kurt started.

"That was you?" Paul interrupted. "Man, I heard about that even at Wallburn's." At his introduction, he had told the director that he was still in school in Michigan but was looking at a fast track graduation and would definitely be available in New York by opening night. Apparently, Paul was some kind of child star and had already done a few singing parts on Broadway in his summer and Christmas holidays. Kurt was surprised a man that attractive hadn't been picked up on a more mainstream show already.

"Really? I-" Kurt was about to deflect their admiration when he realized something. He had a right to be here, too. "I mean, yeah, I did." He let out a breathy little laugh. "Someone was under the impression they could out-diva me," he said, straightening his back a little and adding a confident smile. "That certainly backfired for the other party."

The others laughed. After that, the ice was broken. Kurt told Marco that he had initially been rejected by NYADA too, and encouraged him to try again at the next round. Then Paul, whose resumé had seemed so impressive as he introduced himself, started listing all the schools and productions he had been rejected for, and suddenly Kurt didn't feel as intimidated as before. All of them worked hard for their craft, and rejection and disappointment, it seemed, was part of their everyday life.

"I actually broke out in song in the middle of the supermarket when I heard I got this callback," Marco confessed, shaking his head in mirth at the memory. "I may have frightened a few old ladies and their dogs."

"I threw a party," Kurt added, chuckling. "It's my first callback for anything here in New York."

"Getting this far, with only _two_ other guys? It's good, you know," Paul said. "I've been at callbacks where they handed out numbers to pin on your chest and you'd be, like, number 74. By the time they call you up, the director has already left for lunch and the assistant is texting his boyfriend all through your tap dance number."

"I heard there was almost a fourth guy though," Marco said, lowering his voice confidentially. "He just showed up without an invitation. Made quite a ruckus at the stage door, demanding to be let in. Very young, but claimed to have experience leading a school choir in Ohio and performing at local malls…"

"_Ohio_?" Kurt asked, suddenly feeling suspicious. "Was he… about this tall-" he gestured at his chin, "with a bowtie and very flat hair?"

Marco shrugged. "I didn't see him, myself. I only heard about it on my way in. Apparently security kicked him out after checking back with the stage assistant. Can you believe he just tried to sneak in?"

"I think I can, actually," Kurt said, grateful that it hadn't worked. If it really were Blaine (and it did sound like something he'd do), Kurt would have had even less of a chance at getting this part.

—-

When the stage assistant Jamie called them all back to the stage, Alison was standing with a clipboard in hand, saying something to Romy Cartwright, one of the two writers, who was sitting with her booted feet propped on the seat in front of her and scratching a pen in her braided purple hair. Beside her sat the rest of the production team of _Samael_: Jasper Knipple, the other writer who had run a few scenes with Kurt, and Beltre Walker, who had given them additional choreography. The two women talked to each other for another moment, then Alison turned her leveling gaze to the stage.

"Thank you, everyone, for your work today. Marissa Maxwell, Jill Donovan, thank you, but we've decided to go in another direction."

The two women's faces fell. Marissa's face began to turn scarlet, and she issued a squeaky "thank you," before making an effort not to (totally) storm off the stage. She reminded Kurt of Rachel every time someone else in Glee club got a solo. Jill just nodded and asked if she could be emailed notes, and with a smile, Alison agreed. Kurt hoped he'd be level-headed enough to ask for feedback if he was rejected, too. The whole process of this auditioning business was to learn and do better next time, after all.

Sofia looked so ecstatic that she might levitate off the ground. She turned to Kurt and gave him two thumbs up. Romy fiddled with her pen and smiled kindly.

"We're glad to have you with us, Sofia. Could you come down here for a moment? After we finish with the guys, we'll need to talk to all of you and take your measurements for wardrobe, but it won't be much longer, okay?"

"We've had to make some hard decisions in casting today," Alison said to Kurt, Marco, and Paul. "Casting Samael is basically setting the tone for the entire production. It changes how our writers finish their edits on the screenplay, and Jasper's final decisions on the songs. We began our process of seeking a lead wanting someone with an appeal that people hadn't seen before, something unusual, but special, and I think each of you are remarkable talents. We had an inclination regarding what we really wanted before today, but needed to see more interaction between the actors before making a firm decision."

She paused and looked at her clipboard. Kurt drew in a deep breath and tried not to get dizzy from anticipation.

"Kurt Hummel…" Alison shook her head slowly.

His heart _sank_. Being mentioned first was the worst sign. Like Marissa and Jill, he'd have to slink off stage, though he was more practiced than Marissa, it seemed, at humility. Yet another part he'd be passed over for. They now needed to test the more masculine pair to audition against their Rosalinde. Kurt felt stupid now, for having let himself hope-

"You just _completely_ blew us away at every opportunity," Alison continued.

Kurt leaned his head forward slightly and blinked in disbelief.

"I don't even like _Les Mis_, and yet your solo had me near tears today. Your duet with Sofia was equally moving. I _believed_ you and Sofia, and I'm not a romantic. If I hadn't just paired you up myself, I would have thought the two of you were a couple. These were just my impressions. Romy and Jasper are excited by the prospect of tailoring the songs to fit your more than impressive register."

"How large is your range?" Jasper asked as he sat up in his chair. Beltre raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Oh! I can sing from A2 to Bb5… Uh, but sometimes I can hit C6,"[1] Kurt added, a bit flustered.

"Hallelujah!" Jasper cried. Beltre chuckled and fanned him with one hand. Romy creased her brow at them, shaking her head slightly with a little smile, as she scribbled rapidly on her notepad.

Now Kurt's cheeks were growing red for an entirely different reason. He couldn't understand why they were praising him like this. Did he… _really_ have the part? Or were they just telling him what he'd done well before crushing him, like so many others had? That seemed to be the standard whenever he went for something, but the director hadn't bothered with the other girls, and the writers hadn't even spoken to them.

"There's only one thing that didn't really fit," Alison said, and Kurt's heart stopped. Here it came.

"When I originally wrote Samael, I had this, like, _vision_ of a demon society," Romy explained, gesturing broadly with her hands. "Now, seeing you, the way you move, the way you sing… we don't see 'demon' anymore. We see _elf_."

Kurt nodded in resignation, biting his lower lip. He was trying hard to keep his face neutral, but the rollercoaster of emotions they were putting him through made it hard.

"So I talked about it with Romy and Jasper," Alison continued, "and they agreed to rewrite the part, the characters, the whole setting of the musical! From here on, Samael will be a dark elf. Kurt, I don't want you to change _anything _about your performance. Move as you move, use your natural voice. I will tell make-up that I don't want any prosthetics on you except maybe some pointy ears."

"Now our biggest problem is figuring out how to get an understudy for you!" Romy added with a laugh. She pushed her glasses up. "We were thinking about trying Marco and Paul for it-"

"But I'm not writing three different scores of music," Jasper said.

Understudy. For him. For Kurt. He _was _the lead. He was the lead they were working around, writing a _score_ for, changing their original character designs to accommodate!

Suddenly, everything around him popped into vivid color as his heart surged with exhilaration.

"So we had another idea," Alison picked up. Her thin lips curved into a slight smile. "And it's why we've kept you two here." She looked to Marco and Paul.

Kurt looked from side to side, his own eyes probably bulging ridiculously out of his head.

"We'd like to audition the two of you against Kurt. We've been thinking of giving Samael a second love interest to make the plot less predictable, and since Kurt seems to have chemistry with everyone he's read with, including Jasper, we have decided to cast a man for this role," Alison said.

"How do _you_ feel about that, Kurt? Are you okay with this change?" Romy asked.

"I-I'm fine with it." Kurt laughed and shook his head. "Am I _really_ Samael?"

Romy beamed at him. "You _totally_ are."

"Then, it's fine." Kurt shrugged. "This is actually _not_ a problem for me. At all."

Romy bit her lower lip and bounced excitedly in her seat, then looked down to scribble more notes.

"Now," Alison continued, "Marco and Paul, you have both already convinced us of your talent, and even though the part of Samael is taken, we'd still liked to consider you for our cast. If you're interested, we'll have both of you read with Kurt. Then we can decide if we'll have Samael's boyfriend cast today, or if we'll have to do another round of auditions."

Paul's brows knit together. Marco's lips parted slightly, and he looked to Kurt, pale green eyes curious for a moment, and then turned his head back to their audience.

"Yes! Yes?" Marco said with a flustered shake of the head. "I'd be _fine_ reading opposite Kurt."

Paul cast a quick glance to Kurt, ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, and then, finally, gave a brief nod. "Do we have something to read from?"

Romy hopped up with a few pages and handed them to the stage assistant, who ran up to give the copies to the three of them. "Um, guys, your part was originally a woman, so just, take a few minutes on your own and think about what you'd do with the character?"

Marco gave him a half-smile, but Paul was busy glaring determinedly at the script. Maybe he was a bit upset about not getting the lead? Kurt knew _he_ would be upset… but he'd also probably be thrilled to get any part that wasn't just in the chorus. Paul was different. He'd had his bit parts, and he'd been scrambling a long time to move forward from his Broadway baby origins and come into his own.

They only had a few moments to prepare, and Marco was asked to leave while Paul did his reading. The scene was short, with Samael visiting through the new, unnamed character's window and arguing with him about fairy factions. Now that Kurt thought about it, the change from demons to elves and fairies was probably a smart one, given so much of the background already came from Irish and Gaelic mythology. The original call had been titled Dúbhshláine, but by the time Kurt had come in for his first audition piece, they'd told him it had been retitled because someone had mispronounced the name as _Dubshlong_.

Paul was extremely… _dominant_ in reading his unnamed part. Aggressive, almost. He didn't seem to be happy that Samael had entered his window, and when they were supposed to be on the bed, discussing fairy politics in a playful exchange of lines that implied they were really talking about something else, Paul pulled away from him, and argued more snappishly. Kurt didn't dwell on it in the scene; he was Samael, and Samael was entering the room of his lover. An apparently tense and annoyed lover. So Kurt kept it cool, confident, and a bit coy. When Paul barked, Samael teased more; when he pulled back, Samael inched closer.

And then, finally, when Paul seemed to be getting the picture that this was supposed to be a semi-_romantic_ scene and reached for Samael, that portion of the script was over, and Kurt needed to head stage right. Deciding to make it part of Samael's lovers' quarrel, he hopped up and delicately glided away from Paul's touch, back toward the window, and smiled as he told him how much he loved to see a pretentious courtesan fairy _burn_.

"Oh, how their bones _snap_ and _crack_," Samael muttered dreamily. "I'm away. Pity your loss of me tonight."

"Oh, I _pity_," Paul replied a bit irritably. "I pity every stray moment; I am _riddled_ with regret. I don't understand how _you _are not."

"I never." Samael smirked. "Never pity. Only revel. Tomorrow, then, unnamed suitor."

Paul looked thrown when Kurt said that, although it was what had been scribbled in over 'Morrigaíne.' He just stood there staring at Kurt, and then down at the stage. There were no more lines for them to read in the script. Kurt looked over at the edge of the stage, desperate to save what otherwise would be a very flat end to the scene. He hopped up on a ladder, putting his hand up to his brows as he squinted out over the stage, as though he was peering out the window. Very dramatically peering out the window. He couldn't tell if Paul was picking up on it, but he could hear a few snorts from their small audience.

"Thank you," Alison said. She was fighting a laugh.

"Romy, you couldn't've put a _name_ in there? _Any_ name?" Jasper huffed a sigh.

"You edited out all my names!" she shot back. "What happened to Dúbhshláine and Sluaghadhán and Corraidhín?"

"Honey, _no one_ could say them," Beltre said.

"Like _Beltre_ is an American apple-pie name," Romy replied, only to blush as she realized they were having this exchange in front of their potential new cast. A little irritated with herself, she added: "Fine. Jasper. The suitor is named Jasper, since you read with Kurt first. Jasper the fucking fairy. Is that okay with you?"

"Suits _me _just fine," Jasper replied cheekily.

Kurt arched a brow and looked to Paul. Paul just shook his head and blew a long breath out through his lips. His ears were a little red.

"Thank you again, Paul," Alison called. She gave a dismissive gesture to the three on her right as if to say, _Enough of this_. "Jamie, could you get Marco back in here? I want to get this done today, and I'm sure these guys would love to know where they stand before going home."

Kurt bowed his head and read over his lines a few more times. By the time Marco was back, Kurt more or less had them down. Years of having to memorize new lyrics and choreography every week had trained him to uptake quickly.

Marco came in, clearly already in character. He was slightly softer, somehow, and seemed smaller, even though he was roughly Kurt's height. He gave a bit of a gentle nod to their small audience, and then went to the far side of the stage and pretended to groom his hair in a mirror, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Kurt set his script down and launched himself across the stage in a playful twirl.

"Allo, allo! Jasper!" he said cheerfully.

"Samael!" Marco said with a gasp of surprise.

He began to scold Samael for his sudden appearance in his bedroom, and soon they were flirting, and arguing, back and forth until Samael had cornered Jasper on the 'bed' (really the floor), where there was a little bit of wrestling with the political talk. Marco wasn't off-book, but he still made sure to make eye contact with Kurt as often as possible, and once, in the middle of grappling with Kurt, he dropped it and looked panicked because it was _his _line. Just as he began to reach for it, Kurt swooped around him, picked the pages up, and then held him from behind, letting the pages rest in Marco's lap.

Marco looked back at him with a ridiculously wide grin.

"You're nothing but an imp," he said softly.

"I'm everything but an imp." Samael let him go.

"Nonsense," Marco muttered. "Nonsense, nonsense."

They wrapped up the political discussion, and then Kurt made his way back towards the 'window'. Marco followed him, touching his hand, almost pleading at him with his eyes to stay.

"Oh, how their bones snap and crack," Samael muttered dreamily. "I'm away. Pity your loss of me tonight."

"Oh, I _do_ pity." Marco folded their fingers together and pressed his forehead against Kurt's. "I pity _every_ stray moment… I am riddled with regrets… I do not understand… how you are not?"

His voice sounded small, and wearied. He was a Jasper conflicted and worried, but begging answers of his lover, and wishing him to stay, and give him comfort. Samael, in return, lost his smirk, and caressed Marco's face.

"I never," Samael vowed. "_Never_ pity. Only revel." He kissed Marco softly, causing Marco to lean into him and let out a little sob. "Tomorrow then, my dear Jasper."

The room was dead silent as the scene ended. Kurt reluctantly let Marco go, and then bit his lip and gave him a grin.

"Pretty good, huh?" Marco whispered. "You _are_ Samael."

Kurt looked to the writers, director, and choreographer to see what they would say. Nothing, so far, which was curious. They'd seemed to be pretty chatty before.

"Well, I have my decision." Romy looked to Jasper, the human. He nodded, as did Beltre.

The three of them turned to Alison, who leaned over to Romy to say a few things quietly. Kurt only heard the words 'experience' and 'understudy.'

"All right. Thank you, guys. I think we have our Samael and Jasper right here," Alison said.

Marco jumped in place and let out a low "WHOO!" Kurt laughed and clapped, as did Sofia in the back.

After Jamie left to inform Paul of their decision, Alison asked her new cast down from the stage and invited them to take seats around their table. She put her finger to her lips and looked at them, as if unsure how to formulate her next words. "I just want to be very clear… Marco, I think the way you played Jasper was good, but we don't want this to play into any stereotypes."

Marco nodded.

"_Samael_ is about the choice between tradition and innovation, about breaking away from expectations and obligations. I don't want this love triangle to distract from that. Our main character will have a male and a female lover in the course of the story, and both will contribute to the plot and his development. It won't be an experiment, and it won't be a contest to find out if Samael is really gay or straight. I want to make it clear that he isn't indecisive or going through a phase. He just has lovers of varying gender. It does not define his identity."

"I didn't even think to change how I played it," Kurt said. He wondered if that was a mistake. Samael wanted Jasper in that scene, and Rosalinde, when they were together. As far as he knew, those were different parts of the play.

"We can give you notes if it becomes unclear, but-" Romy shrugged. "I didn't see a problem during this scene. I saw Samael and Jasper being way into each other and having a complex dynamic. That was the goal. They love each other, and all this, like, power play, faction, fairy _stuff_ is going on around them, and Jasper is a little lost in all of it. I kind of prefer him as a guy, to be honest, now that I've seen it."

Kurt nodded seriously.

"I can get the revisions done to the main script pretty quickly. Then we need to give Jasper actual time to score all the songs and work on edits-" Romy continued.

"And I want to write in a duet for you two," Jasper added, pointing between Kurt and Marco. "Fair is fair. Rosalinde gets one."

Marco beamed like he couldn't believe his luck. If Kurt wasn't already smiling from ear to ear, Marco's infectious grin would have done the trick.

By the end of it all, Kurt felt like his head was stuffed full, and he walked to the dressing room feeling caught between parts of himself. He didn't know how much confidence he'd put on merely as a show to get through the audition process and how much was real, regarding his own talents. He'd been nervous about reading with others, only to be told that he had chemistry with everyone. He'd been afraid they'd choose the most masculine and attractive, only to see Paul cut loose. So many unlikely events had turned out in his favor that he secretly wondered if he deserved it all.

Marco and Sofia were by his side as he collected his things and tried to tame his now, somehow wild, hair. Sofia was babbling to Marco about the parts she'd gotten before now. Chorus, bit parts as a best friend or minion and the like.

"Girl, I was prepared to rip out my still-beating heart for them to give me that part. I don't even care that it's not the lead! I'm just tired of _losing_." Marco clapped Kurt's shoulder. "You're so amazing. It's _scary_."

"I um…" Kurt let out a little laugh and did a shimmy happily. "I'm still reeling!"

"You deserve it. I'm so… I just can't wait!" Sofia said.

Their heads turned as the door opened, and Paul entered. He looked at them, furrowed a brow, and then licked over his lower lip. He grabbed his bag and then came over to Kurt.

"Look, I need to apologize."

"No, no, I don't think-"

"I was _extremely_ unprofessional. Even worse, my work up there was _bad_, and you had to try to play off of it. You made me look better than I was by playing along. I know. I've been working on the stage for a long time." Paul looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I was trying to make the 'unnamed—just-created-this-moment—suitor' a _strong_ guy, you know. His own man. And I was just… disappointed. I didn't get the part, and I was angry, and then I was thrown by the sudden script change, and then frustrated with myself for saying I'd try the change when I'm _not sure_ I want to play a gay character at this point in my career." He shook his head. "I don't have a problem with it. It was just… hitting a bit too close to home."

Kurt raised his brows in surprise as he suddenly understood what Paul meant. Before he could say anything, Paul spoke again.

"Look, I know who I am and I don't want to hide it; I'm just not ready to come out, professionally. I don't want to get stereotyped. Especially not for a small part like this that doesn't even have any singing."

Kurt nodded, grateful that Marco didn't use this moment to share the happy news that his character would be getting a duet written especially for him. "I understand that. And it wasn't that, uh, _bad-_"

"It was _abysmal_." Paul shifted his bag onto his shoulder. "You never let personal problems show on the stage. You use it to form your understanding of character, but… It was just not acceptable, and I especially didn't want _you_ to think that… I don't know, that I was trying to intimidate you, or that this had anything to do with you."

"No, I get it. I was rejected from NYADA. I've lost a lot of parts. It happens, and it doesn't really get easier."

"I bet you didn't throw any tantrums."

"No… I've kicked a chair or two in my time, but… not on stage."

Paul laughed. "Well. Congratulations, guys. Hopefully, I'll be able to come back up and see you when _Samael_ goes to stage."

"Farewell, unnamed suitor," Kurt said.

Marco covered his mouth and shook with laughter.

Paul chuckled as well. "And I hope to see you guys again when you're back on the audition rounds after the show runs. Anyway, I need to get back to my hotel room and to pack for my flight back."

"You can give us your newest batch of audition stories when we see you again," Marco said.

"I'll keep notes on those. Just for you." Paul nodded to them and then headed out the door.

Sofia shook her head. "It _was_ really bad," she said after he'd gone. "But it was _not _the worst I've done when I've been messed up during an audition."

"I think we've all experienced rejection enough to know you don't always deal with it the way you want to." Marco zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I think I get what Paul was trying to say. But it's different for me. Directors and producers don't see_gay_ when they look at me. They see 'black guy, medium height and build.' The type I'm gonna get cast is probably _not_ the gay guy, you know? It's probably a drug dealer, or the guy who carries a basketball everywhere. About 90% of directors have asked me what sport I play. It's stage combat, by the way, not basketball. And I'm not gay. This play is_all_ acting for me, and that's awesome. Acting is what I want to do. So this? It's a pretty sweet gig for me. The worst that can happen is my Nana being confused as to what this play's about."

Sofia nodded slowly. She twisted the ring on her left hand. "I suppose sometimes people need to play a part in real life as well," she said softly.

Kurt pressed his lips together. "I've thought about that. But… I'm not good at being someone I'm not."

Sofia tilted her head to the side. "Yes, you are. I just saw you. That's what got you the part."

"I mean, off-stage. I am gay. I can't hide, and I don't want to. I had to decide that before I even got to New York."

"Wait… you're _actually_ gay?" Sofia asked, staring at him. "But… when you kissed me-" Her shoulders slumped a little. "Are you sure?"

Kurt smirked. "Pretty sure, yes." He glanced at Marco, who was trying very hard not to laugh. Kurt cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm not about to take or reject parts based on the orientation of the lead character. I'm an actor; I should be able to play opposite anyone."

Marco nodded. It seemed like they were definitely on the same wavelength here, which was great, because the situation did have the potential to be very awkward if their characters were supposed to get very intimate.

"This part was a great one before they made this change, and I feel like… maybe this makes it even a little better," Kurt said. "I'm pretty sure demons and dark elves don't even _have_ closets. And if this means I'll get typecast in the future, so be it. I'll make my career in spite of people's attitudes."

Kurt slipped his hand into his pocket and felt over his phone, thinking about Elliott and Adam's messages of encouragement. He couldn't imagine what their reactions would be… what everyone's reactions would be. Kurt Hummel finally had his turn.

"And maybe we'll get to play a small part in changing those attitudes. That's how I always thought about it in high school when people gave me crap about liking theatre." Marco smiled. "Hey, are you guys hungry? I'm always starving after performing. Let's go do dinner."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors' notes: ****This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles.**** (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)**

Sequel to Aftermath

Warnings: mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs

Summary: After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.

AN: Contains some Lol Rachel. And some musical stylings from Demi Lovato.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four<strong>

**Elliott**

The club was already packed by the time they arrived. A wall of bodies writhed to the bright, celebratory music. Colored lights flashed down, illuminating random parts, different faces, movements of revelry. In some ways, it was not unique, but Elliott liked this place. It was one he and Adam had agreed on when the group of them had decided that they needed a real night of celebration. One that _didn't_ involve Kurt having to cook and play host to his friends. Kurt had been a little dubious, but both Adam and Elliott had been here before (though not together), and it was a decent place. Not too exclusive a venue. Not specifically leather or drag, gay or lesbian. Elliott wasn't all that fond of clubs that excluded women, as a rule. If it meant he couldn't bring his girls along, wherever they fell on the Kinsey scale, Elliott didn't want to be there.

Kurt was looking a bit sulkily at the back of his hand, where a big glow-in-the-dark stamp of a smiley face winked up at him.

"Doesn't matter!" Elliott assured him. "You're not buying tonight anyway!"

"I'm not?" Kurt looked up at him.

Elliott grinned. Before they'd left, Kurt had let him apply some eyeliner and gloss, something Elliot knew Kurt had avoided for a couple of years. Ohio and his friends had really done a number on Kurt's sense of experimentation.

But now, hair standing up, posture arched with the heeled boots, and his eyes done up with a black color liner… Elliott could buy Kurt as a demon prince… or faerie assassin… or whatever his part ended up being. There was a dark edge there, under the sugar sweet, underaged, newly single twinkie. There were multitudes there, and Elliott couldn't wait to explore them.

Dani slipped through the crowd and claimed a table near the DJ booth, then pointed with both hands toward the bar. This was a signal to Elliott to pick up some drinks, so he let Kurt know what he was doing and sent him, Sam, and Santana to the table. Adam followed Elliott, unasked.

"Split the round, or shall I carry and get the next one?" Adam touched Elliott's shoulder as they edged closer to the bartender.

"Let's take turns. Between you, me, and Dani, we should have the little ones covered." Elliott chuckled, wondering how much tiny Santana could actually hold. "And I don't drink anyway, so…"

"You don't?"

"Nah. It's not a problem. I'm not in a program; I'm a Buddhist. We need one sober head in the group just in case, right? Anyway, this is for Kurt. I don't want him to have to pay for it, you know?"

Adam bobbed his head in agreement. "If we let him, he'd buy us presents for his birthday."

Elliott laughed and waved at the shirtless bartender.

The two of them returned holding a slew of drinks. They set down a few champagne cocktails for everyone, plus some bottles of IPA for the more experienced drinkers, and ginger ale with a slice of orange for Elliott. Elliott suspected Kurt wouldn't want the beer, and sure enough, Kurt fished the cherry out of his drink right away and sucked on it.

"The guys here are all really built!" Sam said.

"Got your eye on one?" Santana smelled the cocktail and lifted it up. "To free booze!"

"To one hell of a role!" Dani said. "Long live the fairies!"

"Oh, good god!" Adam laughed. "How appropriate! You know, where I'm from, you might see one or two of them running about."

"I'm pretty sure I see some right now," Santana said.

"Yes, but I mean the winged kind who might clean up your house or steal your baby," Adam countered.

Santana stretched up to look around. "If I see a baby-stealing guy wearing wings tonight, you owe me 20 bucks."

"We might see the _writers_ around here," Kurt said, looking from side to side.

Elliott lifted his glass. "Dani's right. Let's start this evening off proper. To Kurt: An amazing vocalist, a hell of a band leader, and a one of the most deserving Broadway hopefuls out there. This opportunity has been a long time coming. You deserve it."

Glasses clinked around, and they all took a drink. Adam leaned in and encouraged Kurt to explain what was going on with the musical and how it had gone from a one-woman demon to a bisexual elven assassin.

After the first round of cocktails, Santana stood and started to groove next to Dani's chair. With a laugh, Dani took Santana's hand, then held her other arm in the air and danced up against her.

"We always did have a lotta musical chemistry, huh?" Dani said.

"Too bad that was it." Santana draped her arms around Dani's shoulders and wiggled her ass.

Adam picked up his bottle and smiled at Kurt. "So, Marco? How is it working with him?"

"Yeah. Should I be jealous?" Elliott asked.

"Do you even _do_ jealous? You're the most zen guy I know." Kurt circled his finger around the rim of his glass and shook his head, smiling slightly.

"I could turn down my zen a couple of notches, ramp up some jealous. It is your night."

"He's straight anyway. But gorgeous." Kurt launched into a description of their scene together, but stopped as he saw Santana snap her fingers in Sam's face. Apparently she had caught him staring at her and Dani dancing.

"Hey! Not _for you_. Got it?" She let out a huff. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

"Sorry, I just…" Sam shrugged. "Got caught up. I've never been to a real gay bar before."

"Maybe you shouldn't have come," Santana said. She grabbed Dani's beer and took a swig.

Dani petted Santana's hair. "Don't worry. It won't happen again. Let's hit the floor. The 'mos out there aren't gonna be looking at us, for sure."

"Well, maybe…" Kurt arched a brow, then looked tentatively out at the dance floor.

"You've never been to a real gay bar, either, huh?" Elliott pushed his chair back and offered Kurt his hand. "C'mon. Let's dance. The girls love it when we dance on each other during gigs."

"That's gigs. You've seen the pictures they post of the three of us on the Facebook group, right?"

Elliott licked his lips and grinned. Kurt looked out to the sea of dancing men (mostly men) and took a breath.

"Sure, let's dance."

* * *

><p><strong>Adam<strong>

Adam watched them go, losing himself in the vision of Kurt's long leather-clad legs before realizing he'd better get up to join them or end up sitting in the booth by himself. Santana and Dani had already gone up ahead and Sam had followed the guys, looking determined not to get caught staring at lady couples again. Adam quickly downed his drink and hurried to the dance floor, where a classic David Bowie song had just started playing.

The crowd was cheering and singing along. The music seemed to be made for Kurt, especially with his glammed up look, and Adam felt like he was already seeing Kurt's new elfin stage persona come out. Adam subconsciously closed the small circle around him that consisted of Elliott, Sam and himself, instinctively wanting to shield him from the many hungry eyes that had tuned in around them. Elliott might be too zen for jealousy— Adam wasn't.

After several songs, Sam (who had really gotten into the spirit and had taken off his shirt some time during his dancing) caught Adam's eye, mimed taking a drink and pointed at the bar. Adam nodded. Kurt and Elliott were dancing and air-guitaring wildly in a routine that looked too in synch to be spontaneous, and Adam suspected this was a song from One Three Hill's repertoire. Not wanting to disturb them, he joined Sam alone.

"You're a really good dancer," he said to Sam, leaning over to make himself heard over the music.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, picked up a few moves when I worked at Stallionz. Different audience though."

"Fewer… gentlemen?" Adam suggested.

Sam nodded. "You'd think it'd be the guys who are more rude, right? But those old ladies? You don't wanna _know_ how grabby they can get."

Adam mimed an exaggerated shudder. Kurt had told him a little about Sam's past job, and it was definitely not for everyone. At the time, Adam had been outraged to hear that a place like that would hire underage dancers, even if Sam was doing it to support his family. It was a relief to hear Sam had managed to get back into school and finish his education. Sam seemed okay talking about it now though, so Adam didn't want to make it awkward for him by expressing his sympathy further. He ordered the both of them drinks and turned to look at Kurt and Elliott while they waited.

"He looks different, doesn't he?" Adam mused. "I mean, it's not just the eyeliner…"

Sam followed his eyes and smiled fondly. "I don't know. To me, he looks just like the guy who sang a duet with himself in Glee club."

Adam grinned. "I wish I could have seen that." Sam had known Kurt for a lot longer, when they were both still in school, which according to the stories had been a whole different Kurt from the self-effacing, reticent young man he had met at NYADA. Maybe it was an after-effect of the attack, or just being untethered from a clingy, immature fiancé… or maybe it was something else. Or _someone_ else.

Adam watched Elliott fall dramatically to his knees in front of Kurt as the song ended, his face level with Kurt's crotch. Kurt stared down triumphantly, reaching down to brush his fingers over the short hair in the nape of Elliott's neck. It was hard to say if this was part of their stage act or not, but Adam suddenly understood what they had meant earlier about their audience assuming they were an item.

Adam was beginning to feel like a third wheel whenever Kurt and Elliott were near one another. Adam had known Kurt first, but Elliott knew him best. Elliott was the one he ran to in a crisis, the one he spent the most time with. Not that Kurt shunned Adam, but Adam also couldn't imagine Kurt coming out for a dirty dance with him… Even then, it might not even be a result of Adam being the third wheel, but the _sixth_. Here, anyway. Among Kurt's friends and bandmates.

As the music thundered around them, Kurt's stamina increased, and his hips seemed to detach, rolling and thrusting with almost preternatural fluidity. Insecurity about his dancing skills seemed truly ridiculous. More and more eyes were drawn to his svelte, confident figure. Kurt closed his eyes and mouthed along to the raspy-voiced pop singer:

_Never put my love on the line! Never said "Yes" to the right guy! Never had trouble getting what I want! But when it comes to you, I'm never good enough!_

And Elliott, not quite so limber, but just as energetic, moved with him as though they'd been cut together from the same magnificent cloth.

_You make me glow, but I cover up. Won't let it show so I'm puttin' my defenses up 'cause I don't wanna fall in love. If I ever did that, I think I'd have a heart attack!_

Adam swallowed with some difficulty. He could tell himself that Kurt and Elliott were just friends, he could write what he saw off as jealousy… but he wasn't that obtuse. Elliott cupped the back of Kurt's neck as they danced with a fondness and care that was more than telling. The flush on Kurt's cheek was more than just the heat of the club, surely.

If they weren't together now, they were just a heartbeat away.

Adam truly wanted to leave, but bailing on Kurt's victory party for his own bruised ego seemed too callous. And too much like what some of Kurt's friends would have done. Kurt deserved better, and Adam wondered if he ought to have made a firmer promise to him than "not now." Those words slipped so easily in the mind to "not interested," and Kurt was used to flash, and romantic gestures, and glamor and glitter. It had taken so much the first time for Kurt to even believe Adam actually wanted _him_.

And now, well. Did he step in and take his chance? Did he play along and put up a chase? Elliott was such a good man. So even-tempered, and kind, and Kurt had chosen him. Furthermore, Kurt seemed happy, and even more importantly, he seemed to be healing. It would be so selfish to disrupt that now, wouldn't it?

"Dude, are you okay?" Sam asked. He set down his drink and looked at Adam with a frown.

"Fine. Kurt and Elliott certainly dance well together, don't they? No wonder the One-Three fans love to see them together. Aside, of course, from the fact that they're both utterly amazing performers."

Sam grinned and nodded.

Adam watched Kurt and Elliott a moment more, then set his drink down and joined them on the dance floor, but this time not as close. It helped if he wasn't just _staring at them_. There was a line between generosity and masochism. Fortunately, not a minute had passed before a tall, dark-skinned man danced up to him smiling with interest. However he handled his feelings for Kurt, he wouldn't be making a scene tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Dancing at a gay bar (a real one, not a dingy shack full of old pervs like Scandals, Ohio) was intoxicating. For the very first time, Kurt didn't feel like he had to hide who he was and what he wanted. He could roll his hips without anyone feeling personally offended by it, and he could mouth lyrics to another guy without having to pretend he was actually thinking about girls. It also helped that the guys around him were doing the same thing. No one was telling him to tone it down, or that his dance moves were 'distracting'. In fact, quite a few men around him seemed to actually _like_ what he was doing. Every now and then he'd dodge some grabby hands or twirl away from bodies sidling up too close; it was enough to make him feel wanted and not so much he felt bothered. It was a heady feeling knowing the effect he had on the people around him.

And the best part of it was sharing it with Elliott. He was his mirror, wingman and partner at the same time; silly and over the top when Kurt went crazy too, inventing ridiculous dance moves on the spot that had them both double up with laughter, but very receptive for Kurt's more seductive moves as well. He longed where Kurt teased. Advanced where Kurt gave him slack. It was a give and take of personal space. They circled each other on the dance floor, each song bringing them closer together until their bodies were almost touching and Kurt could feel Elliott's breath on his face. They had stopped dancing by now, and just stood there swaying a little.

"Do you want to take a break?" Elliott asked, leaning in to speak directly into Kurt's ear over the music. Kurt nodded.

They wound their way through the crowd back to their booth. When they found it empty, Kurt decided he didn't really want a _break_ after all. He wanted to continue what they had started on the dance floor.

He sat down and pulled Elliott down with him, hooking his fingers in the collar of Elliott's shirt to reel him in closer. He looked into his friend's eyes for a moment, and upon seeing only wonderment and desire there, kissed him. After their dancing warm-up, their kiss was more heated and urgent than their first. Elliott wrapped his arms around Kurt's back to hold him closer. Kurt swung one leg over Elliott's knees and shifted against him, needing more contact. Realizing what he wanted, Elliott put his hands on Kurt's waist and pulled him into his lap. Kurt sighed against Elliott's lips, undulating his hips like he had on the dance floor—but this time without any space between them. Elliott's hands slid lower and tightened, pressing them firmly together as he let his lips wander to Kurt's throat.

Someone coughed politely next to them.

"Uh, dudes- I'm gonna head home. I have a shoot tomorrow and I kinda need to look alive for it," Sam said, addressing the drinks on the table rather than his friends directly. "So…thanks for the drinks, and… uh… have a good time?"

Kurt, who had reluctantly (but instantly) pulled away from Elliott's kiss as Sam had started speaking, nodded and forced a smile on his lips. "Yeah. Of course. Thanks, Sam. Sleep well."

Sam gave them an awkward wave and left.

Kurt chuckled a little and hung his head, dropping it down on Elliott's shoulder. "Oh god," he sighed. "First Dani and Santana, now us… no wonder Sam wanted to leave."

"Sam's pretty cool," Elliott said. "I don't think he'll be weird about it." He hesitated a little. "Are you… weird about this?" he asked carefully.

Kurt looked at him and let himself slide off Elliott's legs. It was a bit hard to have a conversation sitting on his friend's lap. "No," he said. "No, I'm not. This is… really hot, and I-" He looked towards the direction Sam had just left in, and then back at the dance floor. Santana and Dani were sandwiching an attractive red-headed woman between them, and Adam was dancing with a man in a very well-cut shirt. Kurt immediately disliked the guy. Did he have to be so _tall_?

"Kurt?"

"Yeah." Kurt shook himself from his thoughts and focused on Elliott again. "I just think maybe we should cool off a little," he finished. It was not what he really wanted (definitely not what his body wanted, in any case), but seeing Adam with someone else had effectively killed his mood.

"Okay," Elliott agreed, giving Kurt a bit more space on the couch. "Shall I get us another drink?"

"That would be great."

* * *

><p>The next week absolutely flew by for Kurt. Between work, and the band, and classes, Kurt would've been busy enough, but now he had meetings for the play as they began to get the rewrites of the script done. Oh, and therapy. He couldn't forget that. Because he very nearly <em>had<em> forgotten it, and had only remembered when he was already fifteen minutes late and rushing out of the diner to go visit Elliott.

In between it all, he kept thinking back to their night at the club. And every time, he heard the songs playing that night. Saw again Dani and Santana gaming all the girls in the club (even the straight ones there for a laugh), and Adam rolling his hips and transforming on the dance floor into a gay bar superstar. Remembered the feel of the bodies around him, of Elliott pressed against him.

Kurt wore a light smile on his lips as he returned home after rehearsal. For once, for a moment, maybe more, things were starting to look up.

To his surprise, Rachel was actually home when he opened the door. She clapped her hands together and then gestured to the large bags on the kitchen table.

"I was hoping you'd be home soon! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to come to your little celebration the other day!"

"Last week, actually…" Kurt set his bag down and stared. "Is that from _Balthazar_?"

"Yes! I know you've never been! Aren't I the best roommate ever?" Rachel scrunched up her nose and her shoulders and picked a bottle of Chardonnay. "And I brought wii-iine!"

"That's amazing…" Kurt slipped off her jacket and draped it over the chair. "Thank you, Rachel. And here I wondered if I'd see you again before opening night."

"You would! We _live_ together."

"In _theory_."

Rachel set the Chardonnay down and reached into the bag. "Now, do you want the pan roasted organic salmon with asparagus, morels, new potatoes, and _ramp beurre blanc_, OR do you want the duck confit with Yukon gold potatoes, wild mushrooms, and _frisee_salad? They're both completely delicious."

"Oh, um." Kurt shrugged. "The salmon, I guess. But does that mean you're having the duck?"

"Oh, of course not. I have the risotto and a salad. It's absolutely wonderful." Rachel set the take out dishes down. "Let's get the good plates."

Kurt walked over to the kitchen cabinet to help set the table. "How was your first week back at NYADA?"

"I don't really want to talk about _school_. It's so hard to think about that kind of thing when you're on Broadway," Rachel breezed as she poured two glasses of wine.

"I know. I mean, I don't know." Kurt set the plates down. "It's not _Broadway_, but having this part… I almost can't _breathe_, sometimes; it's so amazing. Every day I wonder if it's really happening. You never think you're going to go in for a part and have the writers change their script to suit _you_ better."

"Oh?" Rachel looked up at him from arranging his salmon on a plate. "They changed the role for you?"

"I guess I haven't seen you enough to really get into it. It feels like I've been talking the ears off everyone who would listen." Kurt smiled and launched into a brief version of his final audition while they finished setting the table. "Today Beltre—he's our choreographer—said he was 'inspired by my form.' Can you believe that?"

"Hm. Yeah, no. Who says that?" Rachel took her seat and unfolded her napkin.

Kurt frowned slightly. "Beltre, I guess."

"He might be trying to get into those overly tight trousers of yours."

Kurt pressed his lips together. "Anyway, they're almost done with the script-"

"You don't even have a script?" Rachel pressed her hand to her chest. "Kurt, take it from a _professional_. You don't want to jump at every opportunity that comes down the pipe. When you look back at this role in a year, will you still be proud that you did it?"

"We _have_ a script. They're just making changes to it, because, like I said, they made some pretty drastic changes to the main character, aka, me."

"I would make sure to get their plans in writing," Rachel advised.

"I already have. We all signed our contracts already. You're getting worked up over nothing." For the first time all week, Kurt felt his spirits dipping a bit. He hoped that people outside of his circle of friends thought this was a legitimate production.

Rachel sipped her wine and shook her head. "I know how you feel about changes, though. Rupert just has so many changes and corrections, and we have to get them all done '_yesterday_' he says. It seems like there are more and more with every rehearsal. Plus I'm working with…"

Kurt was balancing his vegetables on his fork, but he looked up as she trailed off. "Working with… a surfeit of flamingos?"

Rachel screwed her brows together, then laughed. "_No_! An acting coach."

"Ohh. Well, that makes sense."

"Thank you, very much!" Rachel huffed.

"Well, wasn't his problem that your Fanny was too close to Barbra's? Seems like the quickest, most logical solution to the problem, if you don't want to fire the actress and replace her. You want the actress, but you want her to change her entire approach in a few _weeks_… acting coach, right?"

"I suppose. I never thought of it that way before. It's just embarrassing. And you should see how my new understudy gloats every time the coach and I are working together. She's always hovering around." Rachel stabbed her salad. "And _her_ acting is just_ridiculous_ for the part."

"Maybe they want her to _watch_. Two for the price of one." Kurt took a bite of the salmon. He closed his eyes at the bliss that washed over him. New York had an amazing menu, but Kurt's budget hadn't allowed for expensive wine and forty dollar entrees. It was, though, the best damn salmon he'd ever tasted.

"It's just hard to put my best Fanny forward, when everyone around me isn't giving the performance their all. I mean, I keep myself, and my instrument, as pure as it can be, but does that mean Robert and Clover are willing to go vegan for the show? No! Of course not. I'm the only one who has to make sacrifices here."

"Who are Robert and Clover?" Kurt asked.

"My co-star and my understudy. You should see _this one_, Kurt. It's absolutely ridiculous to have even hired her. She's tall and gangly. More like a scarecrow than a proper Fanny. Or maybe the wicked witch, without the green skin. She's more yellow and sickly, and she always wears jeans and these weird printed t-shirts that don't make any sense."

Kurt leaned his cheek on his knuckle. "And why should they be going _vegan_? Shouldn't you avoid huge lifestyle changes before a performance?"

"I told you! I'm keeping myself pure-"

"Well, I know you're not a virgin-"

"Kurt!"

"And what Robert and Clover eat has nothing to do with you."

"I have to pretend to kiss him! You don't think that affects me?"

"It shouldn't." Kurt shrugged. "And you're not kissing Clover, so why does it matter what she eats?"

"It matters!"

"Okay. Answer me these questions three: Do you really think Fanny Brice was a vegan? Does ordering the other actors to go vegan help your Fanny _really_, or do you just want control? AND, how the hell did they make that risotto without _butter_?"

Rachel lowered her fork down onto her plate and glared at him. "Why are you _always_ like this?" she asked angrily. "Why do you always have to point your finger at the things I do wrong?" She pushed away her plate.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"You have _no_ idea what kind of pressure I'm under," Rachel continued. "Madame Tibideaux keeps sending me the most impolite reminders about my attendance record at NYADA, even though Ms. July totally promised to cover for me, and now I have to take_acting lessons_ on top of rehearsal! I'm on my feet 24 hours a day, and the _one_ evening I clear out of my schedule to celebrate with my best friend, all you do is nag."

Kurt thought about his own attendance record at NYADA (he hadn't missed a single class since he had gotten back after his recovery and took some extra courses to make up for the time he had lost), his two jobs, his band, the therapy sessions and the play. Making a list in his head of everything he had to do tomorrow and how he'd get it all done kept him from throwing his plate at Rachel's head. It would have been a waste of good food.

"I understand you're very busy, Rachel," he said slowly, wanting to savor the last of his salmon before she said anything else and completely ruined his appetite. "I just meant you should think about the effect your demands may have on your colleagues. You'll be working with them really closely. You don't want Robert to, I don't know, eat garlic and onions on opening night just to spite you."

Rachel bit her lip and looked longingly at her risotto before getting up and taking another helping of the salad. "He wouldn't do that," she mumbled. "He's a professional."

_More professional than you, _Kurt thought. He wondered when they had grown so far apart. He sort of divided his life in before and after the bashing. It was probably before. As happy as she had been when he moved in with her in New York, things had been tense ever since her fling with Brody. Competing against her at Midnight Madness (and winning) hadn't really helped. In that, Kurt felt culpable, but he'd known at the time that there would be no bringing her back from the diva-bender she'd been on without forcing her to acknowledge other people were as good as her. That had been the only thing to work, back in high school, and Kurt had known that even if he lost, she would be assessing his performance in comparison to her own. Just like when she'd 'won' Maria, she would know she'd been beaten, whether the votes went his way or not.

In the end, the actual win, though, had brought her back down to Earth only temporarily, but still managed to permanently embitter her to Kurt. Rachel wouldn't even _be_ in _Funny Girl_ if he hadn't signed her up for auditions, and yet she lorded her part over him like it proved once and for all that she was better than him. It stung. But at least Kurt now had his own part to build his resumé with, and it wasn't even chorus.

But Rachel's behavior stopped him from sharing his new life with her. Before Fanny, he would have probably told her about kissing Elliott. She might have rejoiced with him and pressed for juicy details. But now? She'd probably wouldn't understand why they hadn't slept together yet, and he lacked the energy to defend his choices.

So he kept quiet and listened to her resume her litany of _why-Rachel-Berry-was-better-than-all-of-her-peers_ while occasionally humming and nodding to show he was paying attention while he thought of Elliott.

Elliott. Kurt still couldn't really wrap his head around it. Why was his friend so calm, so patient- even when he had really left him hanging after (what Kurt thought) had been a pretty heavy make-out session? Elliott hadn't even mentioned it when Kurt saw him this week. They had just hung out, going over possible new songs for the band and eating Belgian waffles (After his time with Blaine, Kurt was sort of conditioned to bring sugary snacks whenever he felt he should be apologizing, but instead of accepting it as something he deserved, Elliott had seemed pleasantly surprised). It was nice, that Elliott wasn't pressuring him. And making out with him had been that too: nice (and yeah, kind of hot, as well). But Kurt couldn't help wondering if it was enough. Elliott was his best friend, but was he in love? Shouldn't he be, if he was going to start a new relationship? And what about Elliott? If he really cared about Kurt, shouldn't he be insisting on spending more time with him, going on actual dates, maybe doing more than kiss?

"-and then he even said I was doing the _nose thing _on purpose. My nose, Kurt! How is it my fault that I look so much like Barbra? Kurt? Are you listening?"

"Yeah. Yeah, wow, that's really unfair," Kurt agreed quickly, and wondered if there was someone he might talk to—other than Rachel—about this thing with Elliott.

* * *

><p><strong>Adam<strong>

Adam took his jeans from the laundromat and shook them out. He frowned. Little flecks of white were stuck to the fabric, and it seemed to originate from one of the front pockets.

"Great. Left a hanky in there again," he mumbled to himself, plucking the soggy bits of paper off his jeans. He reached inside the pocket and pulled out a wad of napkins. The logo of the bar they were taken from was still visible, and there were smears of blue ink on the tissues. _Oh, right._

Adam had left Kurt's celebration party with several phone numbers tucked into his jeans. It was quite telling that he'd promptly forgotten about them again and thrown his clothes in the wash without any further thought. He hadn't really asked for them, but the attention had distracted him from Kurt and Elliott, so it hadn't been unwelcome. It had seemed rude to refuse the exchange of numbers when he left.

He squeezed the water from the napkins and dumped them in the trash. Adam didn't feel ready to date again—not after spending his summer thinking he and Kurt were getting back together. But maybe he should? He knew Kurt had made his choice and had moved on. It was time he did, too.

He straightened his shoulders and pushed his jeans into the dryer. Tomorrow was a new start anyway. His first day as an assistant stage manager of the English Theatre. Who knew what kind of new adventures (and possibly interesting co-workers?) awaited him there.

Of one thing he was certain: No adventures awaited him tonight. Only laundry and take-away from his standard noodle place. Adam checked his phone for the time. He had already called in his order and ought to have enough time to jot down the street, pick up his Vietnamese food, and be back before Mrs. Eriksen shoved all his clothes on top of the dryer. He returned to his apartment for a pair of sandals, then hurried down the stairs.

The summer hadn't quite yet turned to fall, but the night air was getting a bit cooler, and Adam appreciated it. He tended to be a bit warm, even when other New Yorkers were cold. Kurt had once said it was because he brought the sunshine with him wherever he went.

Adam smiled at the thought. Though part of him ached for more, Adam did value having Kurt as a friend. He was attentive, protective, and endlessly generous with his time and resources. Perhaps more than he ought to be for his own good. Adam had more than once considered asking Kurt to rejoin the Apples, to give them a bit of direction in Adam's absence… but he had rethought the matter. Kurt already had too much on his plate, and if Adam asked, Kurt would probably bleed just to make sure it happened.

After a brisk walk, Adam ducked into _Now! Noodles! _and looked around to see if anyone was dining in. It concerned him, sometimes, that the place always seemed deserted. Maybe it was because New Yorkers were so dedicated to their take-away.

"Hey, you!"

Adam looked up to the register, where a tall man with dark eyes and deep dimples was just walking up to the kitchen. He recognized the man immediately, even though he hadn't seen him at Now!Noodles! before. NYADA? No… some place else. Then it struck him. One of the men he'd danced with the other night… and a fairly good dancer, too. And strong. He'd lifted Adam up, once. What was his name again?

"Hey… uh…"

The man smirked and leaned on the counter.

"I just did my laundry," Adam fumbled."I didn't know you worked here. I mean, not that I wouldn't have come if I did, it's nice to see you, but-"

Dark eyebrows rose in amusement.

"What I mean to say is, er…"

"You washed my number? Lucky you were craving something tasty tonight." His tongue peeked out through his lips as he grinned at his own innuendo.

"Uh… Erm…"

_Fabulously articulate, Crawford. No wonder you've such a knack of getting the men to fancy you._

"I'm just teasing." He turned as a kitchen worker him handed him a large brown bag. He read the name. "So… Seven Spices Tofu v-bowl, chicken pho…? Tofu and chicken? Got a veggie boyfriend at home?"

"No. I just like different kinds of noodles. And I don't like to cook much, for myself." Adam pressed his lips together and shrugged. "How'd you know it was mine?"

"It has your name on it. And I already knew who you were when you gave me your number last week. I saw you for the first time during one of NYADA's stage performances. Very impressive. I asked around a little." He set the bag on the counter and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Really? You go to NYADA? I'm sorry, I-" Adam tried, really wishing he'd at least remember the guy's _name_ and not just the feel of those strong arms around him. The way the guy was leaning forward wasn't really jogging his memory in the right ways either.

"Nikolas. Nikolas Nguyen," the man helpfully supplied.

"Right. Nikolas. Of course. Funny how I haven't seen you there before." Adam approached the counter.

"Not that funny," Nikolas spread his hands. "I'm two years behind you, stage acting, so I don't think we ever had a hope of our classes lining up."

He straightened up and punched in Adam's order. "Anyway, I can let you go. Don't avoid us just 'cause I'm here."

"I'm not avoiding you," Adam protested, getting out his wallet.

"Mm-hm."

"I really **am** doing laundry. I threw in the jeans with your number in them without checking the pockets." When Nikolas just continued to smile, Adam pulled on his shirt. "I smell like fabric softener!"

"I bet you do." Nikolas shook his head and gave Adam back his card and receipt. "It's okay if you just tossed it. Some nights you just… Wanna dance."

"No, I… I'd invite you back for some noodles, but I'm starting a new job tomorrow."

"Congrats. And I'd go with you, but I'm here until midnight."

"Rough." Adam pocketed his wallet and picked up his bag. "I could meet you for coffee sometime, though?"

Nikolas's big smile bloomed again.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

Shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder, Kurt looked at his phone for the time, then hurried down the main sidewalk to exit NYADA's campus. He had just enough time to grab something for lunch, and then be on his way to his therapy session before rehearsal.

At that moment, a message came through his phone: _You busy? Come hang!_

It was Mercedes. Kurt stopped by a large fountain to think about it. They'd been meaning to get together again since the group dinner, but Kurt had been busy. He was always busy, andstilltrying to make room for some volunteering. He felt guilty that he hadn't managed to squeeze in time for Mercedes and underprivileged children yet.

But he couldn't cut rehearsal… Though maybe missing one therapy session wouldn't hurt too much. He was getting tired of them, to be honest. Now that he was functioning well enough day-to-day, going to therapy to be reminded of the bashing and his failed engagement just brought him down.

_Where are you?_ he texted back.

Within a few minutes, he was hustling along the sidewalk on his way to the deli where Mercedes was waiting. He made a quick call to the front office of his therapist to make sure they knew he wouldn't be coming. When asked if he'd like to reschedule, Kurt faltered; he didn't have another space for it in his week, but he felt bad just cancelling, so he told the secretary that he'd call them back.

Before he could reflect on that, Santana appeared beside him wearing a form-fitting short blue dress.

"Hey, dancing queen!" She raised her arms and did a little wiggle. "Last week was the best, huh?"

"Where did you just come from?" Kurt looked around, as though she must have been dropped off by a spaceship.

"Mercy just said you'd be joining us from NYADA, so I took the streets that swing by this way."

"Oh, okay. I didn't know you were coming."

"Is that a problem? Am I going to interfere with your girl talk over diet salads?"

"If you think Mercedes is gonna suffer through a salad, I'm pretty sure you haven't met her."

Santana grinned. "Nah. You and I can suffer through the salads. And I'll steal her french fries. You and Elliott last Friday night, huh? And I thought Dani and I were the spicy ones."

She waggled her brows.

"Uhh… Yeah, I guess we were a little spicy." Kurt ducked his head slightly.

"A little? I thought the two of you were gonna _mate_ on the dance floor. So did anything happen after? Didja grab his truck butt?"

"There's nothing wrong with his butt. There are a lot of things… right. About his butt. And other parts of him." Kurt felt his face growing warm. "Like his arms. And his chest."

"And his wang?"

Kurt rolled his eyes at her.

"What? I may not be into that, but he's a big guy, and it seems, from the bulge in his pants, to be an _admirable_ size-"

"Can you just stop? I haven't seen it. At best, what you saw was the furthest we've gone."

"Okay, okay. I'm just hoping for some good stuff to come you way."

"He's a big guy," Kurt agreed. "But he's also…" He sighed. "Kind. And patient."

Santana nodded. "And spicy."

"He's chai tea," Kurt said seriously.

Santana added a little bounce to her step. "I went home alone, too. Dani and I are just too couply. Which is fine for her, because she has that tower of a girlfriend, but it keeps the free ladies away, if you know what I mean."

"That's too bad. It sounds like you're ready to mingle again."

"I think I am. I haven't been totally alone since Dani, but if I'm honest, I'm more of a relationship girl, anyway. A serial monogamist, if you will."

The two of them passed the next few minutes in friendly conversation about the girls (and guys) in LA. As they approached the deli, Kurt could see Mercedes at a table outside, with three glasses of water, each with a slice of lime, already on the table.

"Hey hey," she said happily, and Kurt immediately knew he had made the right decision coming along. Just seeing Mercedes' smile made him remember all the good heart-to-hearts that they'd had in school. They had always been able to be completely honest with each other (well, apart from that time he pretended to be in love with Rachel), and he knew she would give him a listening ear and sound advice.

They took seats around the table and ordered some light appetizers while Mercedes made Kurt fill her in on the casting process of Samael. Unlike Rachel, her jaw dropped when Kurt told her about the changes they were making for him, and she squealed with joy.

"See? _That's_ why I left L.A.," she said, nodding and pointing at Kurt. "Here in New York, artists aren't afraid to look outside the box, do things differently. This is not like Lima, where even _Maria_ has to be white, or LA where they want to put half-naked girls on my album cover."

Kurt saw the quip form in Santana's eyes and gave her a warning look. She pouted a little but restrained herself.

"I just hope the audience will appreciate their bold changes too," he said, still a little disheartened about the things Rachel had said. "Especially the critics. I'd hate for my career to be over before it even started."

"Hey, come on," Mercedes said, putting her hand over his and squeezing it lightly. "They got you, and you're a star. I don't see how it can not be a success."

Kurt smiled a little. He knew she wasn't just trying to flatter him, and it felt good to have her on his side. But before she could add any more compliments to her accolade, he swiftly changed the subject. "Speaking of success stories, how is your album coming along?"

Mercedes smiled. "It's getting there." She glanced over at Santana. "Just trying to attract some more starpower to my side…"

Kurt, who had missed the import look between the girls because their food had just arrived, _ooh_ed at Mercedes. "Anyone famous?" His eyes glittered.

"Infamous, maybe," Santana corrected. "Mercedes asked _me_ to sing with her."

Kurt gasped. "That's… that's a really good idea, actually. You two were amazing with 'River Deep Mountain High'… And don't tell anyone, but you totally had my vote for the mash-off senior year."

Santana smirked. "We were always the top bitches of glee club." She held out her palm and Mercedes slapped it.

"We got the idea at your dinner party," Mercedes continued. "Artie called dibs on producing our first music video."

"And Sony Records is okay with this?" Kurt asked carefully. He didn't want to rain on their parade, but Mercedes' previous record label had been pretty restrictive.

Mercedes shrugged. "I already told them I wanted at least 6 of my own songs on the album. It was one of my conditions for signing with them."

Kurt nodded. It seemed like she had really impressed the label, if she was able to make demands like that. "Do you already have a song?"

Mercedes grimaced. "_That's_ where we're still negotiating."

"Yeah, Mercedes wants us to do this soppy ballad but I'm more for a power song. You know, something that kicks ass," Santana added.

"'Love Waits' is not soppy, it's romantic!" Mercedes protested.

"_Please_. How credible am I gonna be singing about 'saving myself for the love of my life'?" Santana replied, gesturing at her curves. "We all know that ship has sailed."

"So had Madonna's when she did 'Like A Virgin,'" Kurt replied. "It's about the sentiment." He smirked. "Waiting for love…? There might be more than a few girls in the audience who'd find that romantic." He speared a tomato on his fork and lifted it to his lips. "_Single_girls." He popped the bite into his mouth and chewed while he watched her connect the dots.

"Hmm. Maybe we should see how it works live," Santana agreed. "Hey, do you think we could open for One Three Hill at one of your gigs?" Her eyes lit up at the thought.

"I don't know," Mercedes started, hesitating.

"What? I think that's a great idea!" Kurt said. "We'd have to check with the hosting club, but I'm sure Dani and Elliott would be okay with it." He gave Mercedes a questioning look.

She pulled up her shoulders. "I don't want people to think I'd use my connections to you guys…"

"Everyone uses their connections," Santana cut her off. "That's what connections are for."

"That's true," Kurt agreed, "and it's not like you wouldn't help us out when your album goes platinum and you're starting your world tour, right? I think it'd be great to test drive a few new songs to see which of them you might record."

Mercedes smiled. "Okay. Ask your band, and Santana and I can look into my demos. But I want us to practice, okay? There's more at stake for me than a meal at Breadstixx this time."

"That thing was so rigged. We should have won that," Santana growled.

They spent the next fifteen minutes abusing their memories of Glee club and all the times Mr. Schue had let them down. What should have been a depressing topic was actually quite invigorating, as it united the three of them against their old oppressor.

"For me, 'A Little Less Conversation' was a real low point," Mercedes said. "that was just really offensive."

"All I can remember from that week was Mr. Martinez's straddling that chair in the choir room," Kurt mumbled dreamily.

Santana sighed. "He definitely had _duende_. You know, when we rehearsed our dance, he-" At that moment, her cell phone went off. She glanced at the screen and got a little excited. "My agent," she whispered, and answered it with a very un-Santana like bubbly voice. As she listened, she got up and motioned at her friends that she'd be talking the call somewhere a little more quiet.

Kurt realized now was his chance to talk to Mercedes about Elliott. He dabbed at his lips with his napkin and put it over his food, suddenly too excited to eat anything else. "I need your advice," he announced.

Mercedes raised her eyebrows, followed his glance to Santana, who was out of earshot now, and smiled. "Go on," she encouraged him.

"I kissed Elliott. Or, well. He kissed me, but I kissed him too. We kissed. It was nice."

Mercedes let out a little squeak of happiness. "Oh, Kurt, that's great! I'm so happy for you!"

Kurt nodded. "I am too. He's super nice and _incredibly_ patient with me, but… that's just it. He's so patient I'm just not sure if he really wants me. Is that weird?"

"Well, what do you mean? He kissed you back, right?"

"Yeah, he did, but… I don't know. I mean, we're both guys, this is New York, shouldn't we… you know?" He lowered his voice a little. "Be having sex?"

Mercedes frowned. "So you feel things are going… too slow?"

Kurt sighed. "No, actually… I'm not even sure I'm ready to get into a serious relationship like that. I just think it's weird that _he_ doesn't want more."

"You want him to _convince_ you to sleep with him?" She screwed her brows tighter together and tilted her head to the side.

"Maybe?" Kurt ran a hand through his hair. Why did it have to be so complicated?

Mercedes held her hands up. "You don't want to have sex yet, but you want _him_ to _want_to. But if he did, you'd feel pressured and unhappy. Hon, this is some kinda crazy game you're expecting him to play."

"I'm not playing games. I mean, I don't mean to…"

"He's not a mind-reader. He can't know you're thinking all this." Mercedes sat back and crossed her arms. "Kurt, if a guy respects your boundaries, that's a good thing. You know that, right? Pushing you to have sex when you've said no, calling you when you've said you want space, creating a huge spectacle as a 'romantic gesture' isn't so romantic. It's creepy and kind of manipulative, you know?"

"I know that." Kurt looked down at his plate, feeling a little ashamed. They were talking about, but _not_ talking about, Kurt's not so charming ex-fiancé. "But don't guys want it all the time?"

"That's what they say. You're a guy, though. Do you?"

"Well… Not _all_ the time. It's not like they've turned blue-"

Mercedes pointed at him. "Blue balls do _not_ exist. At least not for sex. Maybe due to some of those _pants_ you wear. That's a lie guys tell to guilt you into sex."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. Mercedes patted his arm.

"Let the boy have a chance! And you should talk to him, if you're uncertain. I remember you being all about communication in relationships, once upon a time." She shrugged. "Plus, he probably is dying to dip into your Hummel-pot. If he wants it so bad, and isn't knocking your door down for it, that means he wants _you_ more than he wants to get him some booty. And you've got a pretty fine booty for a white guy, so you know he's into you."

Kurt laughed softly. "This is true. My booty is not to be spurned," he said. Mercedes was right. Maybe he had been expecting the wrong things—things he had been conditioned to expect. "Thanks, Mercedes. I guess I really just needed to hear that from someone else."

"Any time, honey. You know you can tell me anything."

Kurt smiled. Then he noticed Santana making her way back to their table. "Don't tell her, okay? She's pushy enough as it is about it, and I don't want to embarrass Elliott the next time they meet."

"My lips are sealed," Mercedes promised. "Well, except for fries." She popped a French fry into her mouth and winked at Kurt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors' notes: ****This is a collaboration fic of JWM and deliriumbubbles.**** (please visit tumblr for our respective blogs)**

Sequel to Aftermath

Warnings: mental illness, PTSD triggers, homophobic slurs

Summary: After having survived a brutal gay bashing and the implosion of his engagement, Kurt tries to cope with the aftermath of a traumatizing attack as well as his former terrible taste in men. Now, Kurt finds himself with too many options, in theatre, school, music, and his love life.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Part Five<br>****

**ELLIOTT**

"Touchin' yo-ou," Kurt sang.

"Touchin' me-ee," Dani echoed.

"Touchin' you, god, you're touchin' me!" they wailed together.

Elliott grinned back at them as the three of them launched into the chorus. It wasn't a trio song, but working out three voices on a number was much easier than working five. Plus, Kurt sounded good with pretty much everyone. He shimmied his shoulders as the three of them danced to the tempo change, and Elliott couldn't keep his eyes off of Kurt's smile.

Kurt was just such a beautiful man.

"I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day!" Kurt sang after Dani's guitar solo.

Elliott felt himself growing warm.

"You got me in a spin but everything is a-okay!"

Elliott's ears were probably turning red. He needed to write some more songs featuring Kurt's lower register, because it was damn sexy.

Somehow, he made it through the number, and the three of them talked for a minute about how it sounded, and which numbers to use in their gig that weekend, all while Kurt had his tape measure out so he could make some alterations on their outfits.

"I was hoping we could do the new song," Elliott suggested. "I know that we haven't been working on it long-"

"I think we sound good." Dani shrugged and held her arms up for Kurt. "Anyway, Mercedes and Santana will be doing mostly new material, so it won't even be that out of place."

Elliott looked to Kurt.

Kurt held up his hands. "I'm fine with it. But if you get another interview in the Village Voice, you should take one of us with you."

"I only got that because-" Elliott stopped and picked up the sheet music in front of him for no reason and pretended to look at it. "I will."

"Because you kept the guy up all night and he needed to get his piece in that morning," Dani finished with a laugh.

"Up all night?" Kurt asked in a careful, but somewhat high voice. "Lucky him."

"Well, anyway, that was months ago, and our band doesn't even have the same name," Elliott said. The logic didn't follow, but he didn't want to talk about conquests with Kurt. Particularly since, around that time, he'd told Kurt how happy he was that Kurt wasn't crazy or just interested in hooking up.

"Point. Maybe you should give him a call and get us an update!" Dani said.

Elliott raised his brows and shook his head at her. But Kurt was no longer paying attention to them. He was scribbling numbers in his notebook.

"Okay." Kurt sighed and rubbed his eyes. He looked a little tired. "I have to get going. One more run through later this week, or is this it? When is everyone free?"

When they'd settled on a 'working lunch' a few days later, Kurt picked up his bags, gave Dani a hug, and took Elliott's hand for a squeeze. Then, just before he turned to go, he lifted up and gave Elliott a peck on the cheek.

"See you after rehearsal? Mine, I mean, the one with the dancing elves?"

Elliott chuckled deeply and squeezed Kurt's hand back. "Yeah, gimme a text, and we'll get dinner or something."

"Yay." Kurt bounced on his toes and hurried out the door.

Dani watched him go and then picked up her guitar and began to tune it with a smile. "He's so _perky_ right now."

"He's all revved up over this awesome part he's got," Elliott said, putting away the mics.

"Heeee's all revved up over somethin'." Dani laughed, testing her G string, then playing a few chords.

Elliott looked down, smiled, and shook his head. "Yeah. Guess so."

Dani's brows rose as she glanced sideways at him. "Supposed he did protest too much about not being ready for a relationship yet."

"We're not… Not yet. Not really." Elliott shrugged. "We've talked about it."

"The day Kurt auditioned? When he got caught in the rain? How _Breakfast at Tiffany_'s of you."

"You guys and your musicals." Elliott sat next to her on the piano bench.

"It's _not_ a musical." She propped her guitar against the piano and folded her hands between her legs as she looked up at Elliott. "Though Kurt does have a thing for keeping up with gay authors like Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams. If you're gonna start something there, you might wanna hit the googles on all that stuff."

"Nah. He enjoys explaining it to me." Elliott grinned. "Even if he pretends he's put out that I'm not up on all of it." He bit his lip. "Sometimes I pretend that I don't, just so he'll-" He cleared his throat. "I don't think my spotty knowledge of Audrey Hepburn is going to be a huge problem."

"You anticipate other problems, though?" Dani narrowed her eyes slightly.

"You don't approve?" Elliott leaned back. "You always laughed and played along when fans try to get him and me to kiss. I figured you'd be cool with it."

"In a general sense, yeah, but… Kurt's got a lot going on. Y'know?" She rubbed his shoulder. "Are you prepared to deal with all of that?"

"All of it? Some of it? I think so. And Kurt's worth it."

"I'm not saying he's not. Aside from refusing to name our band The Nip Slips, he and I get on really well. I'm just… You can love someone and still… Still, things don't work out. It's sad, but it happens. I don't want that for either of you." She cupped her face in one hand, then reached for his with the other. "He just barely dumped that asshole fiancé of his. He's still kind of _hung up_ on Adam, if you haven't noticed. And though I think you guys could muddle through and deal with that baggage…"

She faltered. Maybe because she didn't want to hold something against Kurt that wasn't his fault. Something Elliott knew she respected him for.

"I know he still struggles sometimes. He still has some bad nights, and touchy moments," Elliott admitted. "We all know that. But he's getting better. He really is. It might not always seem like it. Like, on one day, he seems a little jumpier and more tired, and then the next he's back to being cheerful. A few good days, some bad. But there are more good ones than bad now. Man, how can I _not_ be thrilled for that?"

"He seems really happy," Dani said pensively. "Spending time with you. As 'meant to be' as he was supposed to be with Blaine, he never seemed that happy. Or happy at all. Not to mention, Blaine _never_ came to any of our gigs, so I only ever saw the aftermath of Kurt being angry at something the guy did."

"That guy… He's just the biggest tool in the _world_."

"If nothing else, you two should honor his douchetasticness with a couple of songs."

Elliott chuckled. "I've already started one, but it's less about him, specifically, and more about a town that can teach someone they don't deserve to be loved."

Dani whistled. "Even better. Sounds like a real cheerful one."

"Great art wasn't made out of blue skies and lollipop rainbows." Elliott pushed his lips out. "So do you mind if two of the Three pair up? Or are you like the fans, hoping for a threesome?"

"Eww!" Dani wrinkled her nose and gave him a little shove. "_Boys_."

Elliott laughed.

"Just… take care of each other. And lemme know if I can do anything to make it easier. I don't know what that would _be_, but…"

"Thanks." Elliott rose and picked up a sparkly top hat that he would be wearing at their next gig. "We may need it, if Kurt ever makes up his mind."

"Does it bug you? That he's not doing that? I think it would drive me crazy, being in limbo." Dani took the top hat and put it on her head.

"No. Not at all. I want him to be sure. I _don't_ want him to feel pressure. It's way more romantic to _me_ if two people think about what they want, and then go for it. I don't get the whole surprise proposal, gimme an answer _now_! In public! Why try to force or manipulate someone into choosing you? Things are better when people use their heads."

Dani took the hat off and fanned herself with it. "Whew! Yeah, that's hot."

"Shut it. We can do the feet-sweeping after we know we both want it."

"Not much risk in that, though."

"No, I guess not. Is that your way of saying I need to be more forceful with Kurt?"

"It's probably what he recognizes."

Elliott rolled his eyes. "I don't want to be _anything_ like the guys he's been with. I'm serious, Dan. They've not been good guys."

"Maybe you could do something feet-sweepy and dramatic without being an abusive asshole," Dani suggested.

"Maybe." Elliott frowned.

He wasn't sure what he could do that would be a worthwhile romantic gesture for Kurt. Not without making it seem like he was putting pressure on him. Maybe his daily support wasn't enough, though. Maybe he did need to find a way to make his feelings for Kurt seem a little more familiar.

* * *

><p><strong>KURT<strong>

"Okay, thanks for coming, everyone." Beltre stood on the edge of the stage, poised almost on his toes, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Guys, this is Kurt, he's our Samael. He is _amazing_, and we're really glad to have him on board."

Kurt gave the large group of chorus dancers an awkward wave and a smile as Beltre introduced him. It was weird to think that he was standing there now, facing them as the lead in this play, when he only ever expected to be part of the chorus himself. Some of the other dancers were older than he was, and undoubtedly more experienced. He hoped that wouldn't stop them from giving him a fair chance to be liked.

"Kurt, our group of dancers has been working all week to practice several pieces of choreography, and today's gonna be all about finding out what works on stage for this act," Beltre continued, striding over the stage that was marked off and prepped with several wooden boxes and structures that would become scenery later.

"As you know, this is the first time we get to see Samael at his job." Beltre smiled, looking at the stage like there was already more to see than the makeshift scaffolding. "By the end of this song, three of you will be dead. The way I see it-" He swept his arm over the stage, "it happens right in the middle of it all, and no one but the audience notices. We will see Samael dancing through the crowd, mingling, flirting, perhaps taking someone aside like he would a lover…" He turned to Kurt. "I want the audience to be secretly _jealous_ of your victims."

Kurt swallowed. "Um. Okay," he mumbled, but Beltre was already moving on, dividing the dancers into small groups and placing them along the stage.

"Right. Now everyone in position. Over there, I want to see a regular A-B-C-D, and a D-C-B-A to mirror that on the other side, and a C-A-D-B down here in the front," Beltre instructed, pointing at the groups. "Then change over to the other side and repeat."

Three dancers, two men and a woman, were left standing near the front. Beltre stepped up to Kurt and touched his forearm. "Don't look so worried, honey," he said. "This will all make sense once you see it." He raised his voice to the back of the theatre. "Can we have music?"

He urged Kurt and the other three dancers to sit down in the first row, and the group on stage came into movement. As it turned out, they had practiced short sequences of choreography that could be combined in endless ways, making the dance on stage seem chaotic and harmonic at the same time. Beltre made them change their combinations a few times until he was satisfied, and then stepped up to the stage. "Kurt, this is where you come in," he announced. "You will have your own choreography—similar, but original—an you will move from up there-" He pointed at the highest scaffolding, "to down here," he nodded at the front of the stage, "taking a victim in each group."

Beltre talked him through his vision and showed him the steps. It was a lot more challenging than the stuff he was used to from Glee Club, but then Cassandra July's classes had not been for nothing. Kurt nodded, taking it all in. "Okay, so it's: four, five,_stab_, and turn, jump down to the other level, eight, nine- and eye contact, _knife_…?"

"Yes— and down for six counts and then you embrace here, and she chokes— lights out," Beltre finished.

Kurt let out a long breath. No better way to open up a play than manslaughter. "Okay. I think I got it." He pulled his shoulders back and kicked loose his ankles. It was a lot to memorize on short notice, but he was determined to get it right.

"You want to walk through it dry another time?" Beltre offered.

"No, with music," Kurt replied. He climbed up the scaffolding to take his position.

"You're doing great," a young man next to him whispered. Kurt smiled tightly, already counting the first beats in his head.

He went through the motions, twirling his cardboard tube that was a prop for the theatre knife he'd be getting later loosely over his wrist. The 'assassinations' were part of the dance, and for Samael, part of his ordinary life, and so Kurt let them flow seamlessly into his movements. Pressing a cardboard tube against someone's abdomen or running it over their throat—each murder—was just another count in the rhythm.

But when he wrapped his hands around the woman's neck, he wasn't prepared for her performance. They had skimmed over the move during their first walk-throughs, keeping it light with concentration on the dance and not on acting. Now, with music, his dance partner was giving him a lot more visuals than he was ready for. Holding her breath, she distorted her face and rolled her eyes back, jerking under his hands a little before slumping into his arms—But then there were the _sounds_. Though he wasn't really choking her, there were awful little grunts and mewling noises—and it was all Kurt could do not to drop her.

"And lights out! That was great, everyone. I think we should take it from- …Kurt?"

For a moment, Kurt could hear nothing but his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. Memories came to the front of his mind, overlapping with what he was seeing before his eyes. He forgot to breathe.

"You can let me go now," the woman whispered, trying not to wince and prying at his hands. Kurt looked down and realized he was gripping her arms tightly, his fingers cramping and his knuckles turning white. When he let go, red fingerprints stood out on the woman's arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm really- I'm so sorry!" he let out, but she shook it off, rubbing her arms and taking a few steps to the side. Kurt could see some of the other dancers moving their heads together and talk behind their hands. So much for making a good first impression on the started to feel sick.

The woman lingered nearby, though she didn't make a move to get closer. "Are you okay? You didn't hurt me," she assured. "I'm fine."

Kurt touched the back of his neck and felt his cheeks burn. "I- I'm glad."

Beltre clapped his hands together. "Okay, take five, people. Uh, maybe ten. I need to get in touch with our concept for this scene." He casually strode across the stage to Kurt's side. "C'mon, star, let's conference on this dance, hm?"

Kurt rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply, but he followed Beltre as he was asked. He could feel his eyes stinging, the anxiety still pricking all over him. He might not be smashing up sets, but he remembered this feeling too well, and he jumped the moment Beltre tried to put a hand on him.

Why couldn't he just shake this off? This part was more than just his first big role; people were _counting on him_. They'd started rewriting the musical for him. He'd signed a contract. They hadn't even found an understudy for him yet!

"_Hey_, honey," Beltre said softly as they entered the empty hall behind the theatre. "I'm not gonna scream at you. I just wanted to know what was going on up there. You looked a little _panicked_ by the end… You still kind of do…"

His rich brown eyes studied Kurt's face, the way he was holding his body. Kurt felt as though Beltre could read everything on him—brokenness, indecision, and failure to save Kitt's life. And though Kurt knew he shouldn't, he felt shameful.

"I'd like you to tell me, but…" Beltre rolled his shoulders. "If you don't want to, we can take a few minutes more before we get back to it?"

Kurt wanted more than anything to just go up there again. Everything in his body, though, told him that if he tried that right now, his reaction would be much worse.

"I-I can't. I, um." Kurt pressed his lips together. Beltre waited, crossing one arm over his body and touching his face slightly, concerned. Kurt drew in a deep breath. "About a month and a half ago… It's just not been that long," he muttered, before continuing a little louder. "I was in a- I mean, she…"

Kurt touched his lips, feeling inarticulate. He had only had to explain this cold to his therapist. Everyone in his immediate circle knew, and they filled in the gaps for what he struggled to verbalize.

"Take your time. The dancers are probably grateful for the break. I've been busting their asses to get their part immaculate," Beltre assured him. Off the stage, his manner was warmer, maybe a bit flippant, trying to deflect the tension.

Kurt swallowed and tried again. Short, direct sentences. "Kitt was being attacked in an alley. I ran in. Um, I fought. He died."

Beltre's eyes went round.

"The man who- He choked Kitt. He choked me." Kurt realized he was wringing his fingers hard enough to hurt and tried to hold his hands still, just feeling gently over the scars of his last big, triggered fiasco. "I think that's what did it. I- I'm sorry, I didn't think about it before going onstage. That's just what Samael would do, his job, right? I'm so sorry. I can't go back up there and do that right now."

Beltre licked his lips slowly as he took that in. His hands hitched on his hips, and he turned away, slightly. Kurt imagined what came next. The star that couldn't do his part. The diva asking for special favors. They couldn't just hire an acting coach to work this out. Kurt was _already_ in therapy (and he should really go this week). No, they couldn't fix this. Samael needed to be able to act out his role as an assassin on stage. Maybe Paul would get his chance, after all.

"Well. Shit." Beltre bobbed his head from side to side. "Okay. First off… if you can give me a list of your triggers, I can make sure they aren't in the choreography… or we can talk about it before I spring you onstage. You seemed fine until you had to choke her, right?"

Kurt covered his mouth, swallowed back a noise, and bobbed his head.

"We should get you some water." Beltre touched his temple, then flipped out his phone to text someone. "Alright. So there's that. And then… You're gonna have to talk to Allie about this."

"How do you think she's going to react?" Kurt asked after a moment. He couldn't argue that the director would have to know her lead was a quivering, traumatized mess.

"She's _Alison_. She's gonna be pissed. Though she'd be just as pissed if Sofia got pregnant during the run or Marco got lupus."

Kurt felt like Beltre was trying to make him laugh, and so forced a half-hearted smile that barely reached a full curve.

"Just talk to her. She might need to have a meeting with you, and Romi, Jasper, and me, to make sure we're doing everything to keep things running smoothly. We'll all probably wish we knew sooner, but what can you do? I know now. I can work around that moment in the choreography easy enough, anyway. There are plenty of ways to kill someone."

"I didn't think to say anything when I got the part because it never occurred to me this would be a problem," Kurt said.

"You didn't think playing an _assassin_ would be a problem?" Beltre's brows went up and he narrowed his eyes. "After someone tried to kill you?"

"It's not _real_."

"Ye-ah, but… you and Marco throw yourselves into it up there. It's not surprising to me that actors like you get affected by what you perform. Even then… I dunno that you could just separate this from the role." Beltre moved to pat Kurt on the shoulder, but pulled back before touching him. "Talk to Alison. She's in her office right now. I'll go work with the dancers and try to rearrange a few scenes."

* * *

><p><strong>ELLIOTT<strong>

After putting down his phone, Elliott went to check the risotto, giving it a few stirs and pouring in more liquid. The shrimp on his grill pan smelled done, so he picked it up and added them to the risotto.

At first, Elliott had been a bit stumped on how to be more 'romantic' for Kurt. He normally did that by taking care of things Kurt needed, or making a meal… But that wasn't a big gesture.

And they always cooked for one another. Elliott wasn't sure if that meant they were always casually romantic with one another, or if they were already skirting dangerously close to old-married territory.

Luckily, Elliott had started flipping through his songwriting notebook after going grocery shopping and remembered the song he'd been fiddling with on and off. Really, it was strange that he hadn't shown it to Kurt yet, when it was predominantly based on him—his strength, his humor. Elliott tended to write more about life than love, but Kurt tended to inspire. Not to mention, being serenaded was probably in Kurt's mind something people in love did for each other.

So Elliott had spent most of the afternoon working on Kurt's song, and later on, prepping dinner anyway, because who didn't like to be cooked for? The surprise was that it wasn't curry. Kurt never turned his nose up at curry, but he tended to cook from so many different kinds of cuisine… Elliott knew Kurt had the more refined palate of the two of them.

Everything was ready by the time Kurt buzzed from downstairs. Elliott had been beginning to worry that Kurt would be even later and the risotto would sit for too long. He bounded to the front door and buzzed him up, and then rubbed his hands together a little nervously. This was new! Aside from his first audition and tracking Kurt down to beg to be in the band, Elliott didn't usually feel nervous around Kurt. He'd even put a little extra time into doing his hair and make-up.

Elliott bounced on his toes as he waited for Kurt to come up, then went to quickly light some sandalwood incense. When he opened the door, Kurt looked less put-together. His hair was getting flat, his eyes were lined and a little puffy, and he was hugging that big stuffed frog Adam had gotten for him. It said a lot about his state of mind that he went to his place to pick it up but apparently hadn't freshened up.

"Whoa, hey. Are you okay?"

Kurt shrugged. "Rough practice. I don't really wanna talk about it. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure…"

Elliott stared at him for a moment and then rubbed a hand over his shoulders. Kurt took a deep breath and pressed his lips into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Something was really wrong, and… Kurt didn't want to share.

"It's not you, Elliott. I'm just talked out right now."

"Well, um. If you ever change your mind, I'm here to listen, okay? I made dinner, and…" Elliott cast a look at his guitar. Would the song get Kurt's mind off of what had happened, or would it just unnecessarily focus attention on Elliott? Maybe the song could wait until Kurt was feeling a real smile. "And it's not curry."

"Not curry?" Kurt squeezed the frog tightly. "That must've been trial."

"I know!" Elliott went into the kitchen and spooned some of the seafood risotto onto two plates and set them on the table. Then he took the two already prepared salad bowls out of the fridge. Kurt liked a good salad with meals. He ate a lot healthier than most of the people Elliott knew. "I also have some wine? The girl at the store said we ought to use the chardonnay, but I got a red, too, because you like it better."

"You're amazing," Kurt muttered.

Elliott blinked quickly. It was hard to see Kurt down and not be able to do much about it. But after he'd left Blaine, there had been a number of nights when there was little to do but offer himself as _there_ for whatever Kurt needed. And sometimes that meant food, or it meant listening, or it meant keeping him from sleepwalking into things, or it meant holding him and that frog when Kurt was feeling depleted. Kurt came up to him and nuzzled up against his chest. Elliott set down the chardonnay and wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders.

"It's no big," Elliott said softly.

He could feel the frog squishing against him, and was about to say something more, when Kurt lifted his head and awarded Elliott with a firm kiss to the lips. "You look really nice tonight," he said, then frowned a little. "You're not ditching me after dinner for some hot date, are you?"

"You are the hot date," Elliott replied.

Kurt let out a derisive snort, but didn't comment. "So…risotto, huh? Let's try it then." He let go of Elliott, but kept the frog as he sat down at the table. As they ate and Elliott told Kurt about his day and his rather crazy conversation with the seller at the seafood stand on the market, Mr 'Oppy slipped off Kurt's knees and wasn't picked up again. Elliott slowly relaxed. Kurt was laughing again, spooning the risotto that had clearly been approved of while he listened, urging Elliott to keep talking. He knew it was just a distraction, but if it worked?

After dinner, Elliott suggested they could play Cards Against Humanity. It never failed to cheer Kurt up when they both let out their most vicious side to make the answers as biting as possible. They had even added some cards of their own with little inside jokes. Elliott loved the game just as much as Kurt did. It was a safe way to let out some of the negativity he tried to ward from his daily life.

By the time they had finished their wine, they were both in a very good mood. Just as Elliott was contemplating singing his new song after all, Kurt glanced at his watch and sighed.

"I have an early class tomorrow," he said dejectedly. "And it's stage combat, not really something I can just sit in the back and snooze through."

"Mmm. Should come in handy for _Samael_ though, right?" Elliott replied, making a few karate chops in the air. He smiled as he imagined how hot Kurt would look wielding a sword.

Kurt's relaxed posture tightened a little. "Yeah. Yes, it will. So I'd better go." He put his glass down and got up. "Thanks, Elliott. I had a really great evening."

Elliott wasn't sure what had just changed, but whatever it was, he hoped Kurt would find a way to open up about it to someone soon, even if it wasn't him. Kurt had been through too much to keep it all inside.

"Me too," he said, and got up as well to hug Kurt goodnight. Kurt held on a little longer than usual- a few seconds more and Elliott would have been tempted to put him back on the couch and insist he stay until they figured things out. But as it was, he respected Kurt's decision to handle things on his own. That didn't mean he wouldn't be calling in the next day to check on him, though.

* * *

><p><strong>KURT<strong>

"Alright, time out! Well done, you guys. I've seen some excellent sparring over here! Nik, Mira, great footwork, excellent timing. Kurt, magnificent as always-" NYADA's stage combat instructor moved through the pairs of students, most of whom were breathing hard. They had been training for almost an hour and the last routine had been fast-paced and exhausting. "Now take five and hydrate, and we're gonna do some stretching to cool down."

Kurt put away his bo staff and walked over to his bag to take out his towel and a bottle of mineral water. He had pushed himself hard, forcing all of his worries about _Samael_and his talk with Alison out of his mind with vigorous exercise. The instructor's praise helped as well. He might not have the stage killing down, but he had the fighting skills, which was a start. _Fake it until you make it,_ right? As he took a long sip from his bottle, he couldn't help but overhear the other students nearby.

"So how was your date?" Mira asked her sparring partner Nikolas. "Did you have _tea and crumpets_?" She teasingly put on a posh accent.

Nikolas chuckled. "We went for a coffee, yeah. It was nice. He's a nice guy."

"But you didn't get to taste his crumpets?"

"I wish," Nikolas replied. "It's like he wants to, but something's holding him back. I don't know. I guess he got dumped pretty badly. But, you know, good things come to those who wait. He did say he wants to see me again."

"Well, if you want me to do some background poking, let me know. My roomie used to date one of his Apples."

Kurt froze. He hadn't really been interested in the conversation so far (Mira's British accent was deplorable, and he didn't think it was his business who Nikolas was dating), but he suddenly realized they were talking about Adam. _His_ Adam. Adam was dating? He inched a little closer while he pretended to re-lace his sneakers.

"Thanks. Yeah, anything that would help tip the scales in my favor… I mean, I'm not going to sit around pining until he makes up his mind, but… you've seen him, right? I'm telling you, those vests and the plaid don't do what's underneath any justice."

Mira sighed. "Why are all the hot guys gay?"

"That's not true. Stephen was hot."

"Well, gay or an asshole," Mira corrected. "But I'll ask my roomie for you. And maybe _you_can ask if Adam has some hot, straight brothers."

_He only has sisters, _Kurt thought. _I'm pretty sure he told me about them almost right away. Clearly Nikolas doesn't know him at all._ But then how did he know what Adam was hiding underneath his clothes?

His thoughts were interrupted as Nikolas suddenly appeared next to him.

"Hey, Kurt. Really impressive routine you did just now," he complimented.

"Uh. Thanks," Kurt replied, his cheeks heating up a little. He hoped they hadn't noticed him eavesdropping.

"Maybe next time we could partner up. You could teach me some of those moves." Nikolas winked.

Kurt looked at him for a moment. Was he for real? "I don't think you need any help," he deflected. Why was Nikolas flirting with him when he was dating Adam? Were _all_ guys cheaters?

"It would still be fun, though," Nikolas said, waggling his eyebrows a little. "Hey, James, check out the gun show."

Kurt took a deep breath to tell him exactly what he thought, but their instructor called them out to the floor for their cool down. Kurt could definitely use one.

He looked down at the arm he'd been flexing, then up at the guys who had suddenly come over to admire him, before he moved out to the floor as directed. The instructor lifted his arms over his head, and Kurt mimicked the action and drew his breath in and out. Nikolas's eyes were drawn to him, and Kurt felt himself getting hotter instead of cooler.

He wasn't used to this kind of attention. For some reason, since school had started back, the guys at NYADA had been _looking_ in a way that they hadn't before. It was unfamiliar, not entirely unwanted, but he couldn't focus on it. Because there were the looks, and then there were the whispers. The gossip mill was the most efficient part of NYADA, it seemed. In the hallways, he caught mutters of "fought off those homophobes" and "think I see a scar" and "could always tell he was a hero." And no matter what, he didn't really feel like a hero. Heroes _succeeded_ in saving people.

These thoughts buzzed through his mind as he stretched one arm over his head. He looked over at Nikolas, whose gaze had averted to the front for a moment. In a way, it wasn't strange for him to attract attention now, even if the circumstances were new… but it was strange that he'd gone out with Adam and was still sniffing around for other options. Didn't he know what a keeper Adam was? Kurt didn't know whether to tell Nik that or to just let him lose his shot with Adam.

Kurt bent one knee and stretched to the left in a lunge. Maybe he wasn't exactly unbiased. He knew what it felt like to lose Adam… And Adam knew what it felt like to lose _Kurt_. It wasn't clear whether Kurt should involve himself at all, but… he found himself wanting to at least _see_ Adam, to check in on how he was doing. When they had finished their stretches, Kurt collected his things and started composing a text to see if Adam wanted to meet up.

* * *

><p><strong>ADAM<strong>

Adam could see Kurt through the street-side window. His hair was well coiffed, and he rested his hand on his chin. Kurt really was a beautiful man. It seemed like he grew more beautiful by the day. With a slight smile, Adam headed into the cafe.

"Hey!" Kurt rose from his table and came up to Adam with a smile. Almost instinctively, Adam leaned forward, and Kurt responded by opening his arms and giving Adam a hug.

After they'd both let go, Adam went to order a cup of coffee, then returned to see Kurt pressing his fingers on the edge of his mug. Adam's brows drew together at this sign of discomfort, and he sat across from Kurt.

"So how is everything going? Work, the band, the play?"

Kurt's lips tightened. "Mm."

Adam tilted his head back. "Oh?"

"No, no. It's fine. I just…" Kurt shook his head. "I'm glad to have Mr. 'Oppy around, sometimes."

"Did something happen?"

"I've had to, uh, _talk_ with the director about getting triggered during rehearsal." Kurt was trying to keep his voice even, but his eyes fixed on the tea in front of him and spots of pink bloomed in his cheeks.

"Oh." Adam wanted to ask more, but it was clear to see Kurt was trying very hard to keep himself together and he'd probably prefer to tell the story at his own pace.

"Alison—that's the director—she was really pissed at me. She didn't fire me, but you could tell she was pissed. I was kind of upset about it, last night. I'm still not thrilled, but they said they'd work around it, so…" Kurt shrugged, and added, "It's useful to have something to smush," referring to Mr. 'Oppy.

Adam shook his head, and then reached for Kurt's hand. When Kurt allowed the touch, Adam rubbed his thumb over Kurt's fingers. Before he could think of a response, and he had been formulating one about not being ashamed about what had happened to him, Kurt looked up, almost brightly, and spoke.

"So, h-how's your new job? And, um, everything?"

Adam licked his lips, watched Kurt for a moment, and then began to recount his glamorous work as a stage assistant. The barista came by with his cappuccino. Kurt listened with rapt attention, soaking Adam's words in with such eagerness that Adam paused every so often just to watch Kurt's expression. And to prompt another encouraging little nod and smiling question.

"I'm really not this fascinating," Adam said, finally.

"No, I mean… Yes, it's interesting. I've never done it from that angle…"

"I can't imagine it isn't moreso from _your_ angle, Mr. Star."

"Maybe, but… I just miss you, I guess. And I was kind of-" Kurt shrugged. "I like hearing about your day."

"I've no doubt." Adam narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back. "But there's hearing about my day, and then…" _There's interrogation. _Something was up with Kurt.

Kurt looked toward the window, his ears starting to cook up a fine red.

"As cute as it is to see you embarrassed, though I don't revel in it… I know you. What's on your mind?"

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just, um, worried, I guess." His eyes shifted over the table. "There was this guy in my Stage Combat class talking about you, about having coffee with you… and then he _flirted_ with _me_." He cringed. "It's not about me. He flirts with guys all the time-"

Adam frowned. "Nikolas?"

"I- uh. I shouldn't have said anything. It's none of my business."

Adam felt his hands getting a little shaky. Was he excited? Angry? "Kurt, _I'm_ the one who told Nik I wanted to keep this casual for now. I'm not really interested in rushing into something right now. It hardly seems fair to expect him to walk around with his eyes closed while I can't offer him anything more than a coffee-date."

"Yeah?" Kurt nodded slowly. Then started to ramble. "I'm sorry, this is so weird. I didn't know if I should say anything, or how I would even start, and I didn't want you to get hurt by some asshole flake who just wants to play the field and doesn't know how to_appreciate_ you…"

"But you wouldn't be one of the guys Nikolas-" Adam gestured. "I mean, you're with… Aren't you?"

"With…" Kurt's brows rose. "Oh. Oh, yeah… Kind of. I don't know. We talked about it, but I'm- It's so… _new_. I don't want to mess it up. He's such a good friend."

Now his cheeks were really pink. And it was cute, still. But Adam couldn't say it didn't hurt his heart a little to see Kurt getting flustered over another guy. At least it was over a good guy. Had this been anyone else, one of his Apples maybe, he would have offered more support, reassurance, advice. But Adam found he couldn't do that. As much as he liked Elliott and wished Kurt happiness, this was something Kurt had to figure out without help. Especially since he still seemed so unsure. The last time Adam had tried to help Kurt make such a decision hadn't exactly worked out well.

As Kurt continued, Adam realized he had just been sitting there stirring his coffee and not saying a word. It was his turn to blush a little.

"Anyway, no, I won't be doing anything with Nikolas, no matter how much he admires my-" Kurt paused for a minute and pinched his lips together, as though he wasn't sure whether he was amused or not. "-gun show."

"Ha ha!" Adam clapped his hands together. "He said that? He's very direct, isn't he?" Adam chuckled. "I thought I had some training after everything Santana threw at me, but he's something else alright." The memories of the things Nikolas had whispered in his ear as they were dancing made him smile. It had been quite outrageous, but very flattering.

Adam noticed Kurt suddenly seemed very busy rearranging the small packets of sugar next to his cup of tea. Maybe it hadn't been very gentlemanly of him to speak so fondly of someone he was considering dating to the man he used to date.

"But like I said, I want to keep it casual," he stressed. "Just… get to know him a little. If he's really such a big flirt, I'm sure he'll lose interest in me soon enough."

"Well, then he's an idiot," Kurt let out, accidentally tearing open one of the sugar packets. Sugar rained down on the table. "I mean, you should- you deserve…" His fingers nervously tried to sweep the sugar into a little heap.

Adam put his hand over Kurt's to still it. "Thanks," he said simply. "Hey, do you want some cheesecake? I think I saw some when I was over at the counter."

Kurt gave him a grateful look, and Adam rose. They could both use a minute or two to take a breather after this, and find some neutral topic for the remainder of their drinks.


End file.
